there for almost an hour, but she never spotted him.
One of the guys walked up, and leaned over Cole. “Mack wants you inside.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Cole turned to him. “Stay with her, Crash.”
“You got it, bro.”
Cole kissed her, and got up. The other guy sat down, but didn’t speak to her. He was about the same age as Cole. He had long dark hair, pulled back in a ponytail. His beard was trimmed close to his face.
He drank his beer, and pretty much ignored her. Angel tried to observe him out of the corner of her eye, without looking directly at him. He caught her, and the corner of his mouth pulled up in a small smile.
Cole was inside the clubhouse for about half an hour when Chucky wandered over to the table. He leaned his hands down on the end of the table, and glanced at the Evil Dead club members sitting with her, and then he looked at her. “Hey, baby. They passin’ you around?”
The guy next to her, and the guy across from her both stood up. Chuck raised his hands, and backed away. They stood there a minute, staring at Chuck until he blended back into the crowd, and then they sat back down.
Angel reached for her beer, and her hand was shaking. The guy next to her, that Cole had called, Crash, noticed.
“You got nothin’ to fear, darlin’. We’re watching out for you,” he reassured her.
She looked up at him, and nodded, wondering how much he knew, and if Cole had told him everything.
A few minutes later she saw Cole and Mack emerge. They stopped on the porch, talking. Cole lit a cigarette, and blew the smoke out, and looked over at her. He raised his chin in acknowledgement. She saw his gaze slide to the brother next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Crash shake his head at Cole.
Cole nodded back once.
He and Mack continued talking. From the distance, she couldn’t hear any of their conversation.
Mack looked over at Cole. “Anything yet?”
“Naw. Doesn’t look like it.”
“You sure she isn’t making this shit up?”
Cole could hear the irritation in Mack’s voice. He shook his head. “She’s got no reason to lie about it.”
“I hope not.”
Cole looked at him, understanding that if Angel was lying, it wouldn’t go well for her. He nodded, and looked back at her. Just then he saw her face go still, and she slowly lowered her beer. He followed her gaze to a group standing by the fire.
She turned, and looked at him, and nodded.
Cole’s left arm came up, and tapped Mack on the chest.
Mack looked over at him, then followed his gaze to Angel.
Cole tossed his cigarette to the ground, stepped off the porch, and walked over to her. He stood at the end, leaned down, palms on the table, and looked in her face.
She turned, and looked toward the group again.
He turned his head, and looked over his shoulder following her gaze. “See him?” he whispered.
Angel looked up at him, and nodded. She whispered, “Yes. The one with the bandana around his head.”
Cole glanced back, spotted him, and nodded once letting Angel know he saw him. He looked her in the eyes. “We get closer. You take a good look. You gotta be sure, you understand? If it’s him, squeeze my hand.”
She nodded.
He straightened up. “Let’s take a walk, boys.”
They all got up.
Cole took her by the hand, and pulled her behind him. He led her over to the bonfire. He walked up, and clasped the back of one of the other guys standing in the group. “Hey, Birdman. How’s it hangin’?”
The man turned to look at him. “Cole! How ya doin’, man?”
“Good. Good. You still ridin’ that old shovelhead?”
“Spend more time broke down on the side of the road, than riding,” he joked.
They all laughed.
Cole looked over at the man next to Birdman.
Birdman jumped in, “You remember AJ? He’s been away a couple years. Just got out about six months ago.”
Cole nodded. “No shit? Where at?”
The guy in the bandana took a hit off a beer. “Folsom.”
Cole nodded. “What’d they get ya for?”
“Possession. Dealing. Weapons. Bunch of shit.”
“Bet your not itchin’ to go back, huh?”
“Ya got that right, brother,” he laughed.
Cole laughed back.
Angel squeezed his hand.
Cole looked back at Birdman. “I got a new ride. Real sweet.”
“Yeah? What’re you ridin’ now?” Birdman passed him a joint.
“A ‘58 pan-head.” Cole took a hit off it, and passed it back.