Chapter 12
The road to Eli’s place wound through a labyrinth of towering limestone spires and dry gulches where the shadows stretched long and jagged across the desert floor. Eli’s Auto Salvage was less of a business and more of a mechanical graveyard, sprawling across five acres of sun-baked dust enclosed by a ten-foot-tall fence made of corrugated sheet metal. Hundreds of rusted car bodies, stacked two and three high, formed a metallic maze that blocked out the surrounding wilderness.
Jax rolled the FXR up to the rusted chain-link gate, which was chained shut with a heavy padlock. He killed the engine, letting the silence rush back in, and hopped off the bike. He walked up to the gate and banged his heavy fist against the metal three times in a distinct, rhythmic pattern.
A few moments later, a small door cut into the sheet-metal fence creaked open. Out stepped Eli, a seventy-year-old mechanic with a face like a dried walnut, a greasy gray cap pulled low over his eyes, and a lit cigar clamped firmly between his stained teeth. He squinted through the afternoon glare, his eyes passing over Jax before locking onto the small boy standing by the motorcycle.
“Well, I'll be damned,” Eli rasped, taking the cigar out of his mouth and spitting a brown stream of saliva onto the dust. “If the stray dog didn't finally crawl back home. And looks like he brought a puppy with him.”
“Good to see you too, Eli,” Jax said, stepping past the old man and pushing the gate wide enough for the bike. “Need a place to lay low for a few days. The mountain cabin is too exposed, and some old faces from the Highway Kings are starting to sniff around.”
Eli’s weathered face hardened instantly. He looked back down the dusty road leading to the salvage yard, then at Leo, who was staring up at the towering stacks of wrecked cars with wide hazel eyes. “Bull?”
May you like
“Yeah. Bull,” Jax confirmed.
Eli let out a low whistle through his teeth, shook his head, and stepped aside to let them in. “That son of a bitch is still holding grudges from the Cheyenne job? Some guys never learn when to take off the colors, Jax. Come on in. I got a trailer in the back behind the crusher. It ain't much, but it’s got running water, a lock on the door, and a clear field of fire if anyone tries to jump the fence.”
