Chapter 2 - The Weight Of Ink
Brenda’s hand hovered dangerously close to the brass call bell as the silence at the counter stretched thin and brittle. The heavy hum of the diner’s refrigerator seemed to amplify every shallow breath Leo took. Jax remained frozen, his massive frame hunched over the Formica counter like a statue carved from bad memories. His dark eyes were glued to the messy, childlike handwriting on the torn piece of notebook paper.
“You’re lying, kid,” Jax rasped, his voice scraping against his throat like dry sandpaper. He shoved the paper away as if it carried a lethal current. “That’s a cheap trick. A stupid game someone put you up to play. Now walk away before I lose my temper.”
Leo didn’t flinch. He planted his scuffed sneakers firmly against the linoleum floor, refusing to yield an inch.
“It’s not a game,” Leo insisted, his hazel eyes burning with a fierce, unnatural intensity for an eight-year-old. “He told me your name. He told me about the tattoo on your left forearm—the broken chain with the raven’s wing. He said if I ever needed a real man to protect me, I should show you this exact address.”
Brenda gasped, her rag dropping onto the sticky counter with a wet slap. She stared at Jax, her eyes widening in sudden, dawning horror.
“Good Lord, Jax,” Brenda whispered, her voice trembling. “That’s… that’s Bobby’s handwriting. I’d know those shaky loops anywhere. Bobby hasn't been seen around these parts since the night of the fire at the old mill.”
Jax slammed his heavy fist onto the counter, making the ceramic coffee mug rattle violently.
“Shut your mouth, Brenda!” Jax roared, towering over the stool. He turned his burning gaze back to Leo, his chest heaving beneath his worn leather vest. “Your old man was a pathological liar, kid! He ruined everything he ever touched, and he sure as hell didn’t leave a son behind unless it was just another mess for someone else to clean up!”
Leo’s lower lip finally quivered, betrayal flashing across his pale face.
“He wasn’t a liar,” Leo whispered fiercely, a tear finally spilling over his long eyelashes. “He took care of me until his heart stopped beating yesterday morning. And before he closed his eyes forever, he made me promise I’d put this paper in your hands.”
Jax’s breath hitched in his throat. He stared at the tear sliding down the boy’s cheek, the tough-guy facade cracking down the middle. He reached out with a trembling, ink-stained finger, hesitating just an inch from Leo’s bruised cheek.
“Yesterday morning?” Jax choked out, the anger evaporating into pure shock. “He… he’s really gone?”
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Before Leo could answer, the diner’s front bell chimed violently as the heavy glass door swung open, letting in a gust of hot, dusty wind and the roar of a second motorcycle engine idling outside. Two heavily built men in identical black cuts stepped inside, their eyes scanning the room with cold, predatory efficiency until they locked straight onto Leo’s oversized jacket.
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