“I don’t know. I should check with Mav—”
Lucifer leaned in, lowering his voice so that only I could hear. “I’ve still got some snakes in the henhouse, you feel me? Some shit will be going down that no sixteen-year-old needs to be in the middle of. His dad’s idea of parenting was to leave him at the clubhouse all day, and who knows what kind of shit he dealt with under his mom. This is a chance for him to have a fresh start. And from what I’ve heard about your club, I’m thinking he can finally get some kind of positive role model shit.”
I took a deep breath, and my thoughts jumped to Lexie. She’d mentioned growing up in foster care. I didn’t know the full story of her parents, only that they weren’t able to raise her. She didn’t deserve to be passed from family to family, and neither did this kid.
“Does he have a bike?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods? Of course.” Lucifer pointed to a motorcycle that wouldn’t make it fifty miles, let alone 500.
Although, if the bike did survive the trip, where would the kid stay? If Mav didn’t want him, maybe Stitch and Poison would take him in. Or maybe old Larry. He owned the property adjacent to ours and was getting on in years. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a problem after all.
Lucifer motioned him over, and I noticed he was already carrying his backpack. Fuck me, what if I’d told Lucifer no? The kid made his way to us, then stood with his head down.
“I’m, uh, sorry about your dad.” The kid didn’t seem broken up, but what did I know about teenage emotions?
“Whatever.” His foot swirled in the gravel, making circles while we stood.
All right, so I’d skip the pleasantries. “Are you sure you want to do this, kid? Move to a new state and start over with a bunch of people you’ve never met?”
He shrugged. “Nothing better to do.”
I sighed. “What’s your name?”
“Michael,” he mumbled.
“Michael? Like the angel?” My eyes darted at Lucifer who threw his hands up. That name was a bit out of sync for this crowd.
The kid huffed, finally raising his head. “Turns out my bitch of a mother had a sense of humor.”
Damn, this kid had an attitude. I could see why Lucifer was itching to pass him off. I took another deep breath.
“Or maybe she knew you were meant to be a Reaper. I’m Gabriel.”
His eyes widened, and I saw a flash of interest before he masked it beneath his teenage indifference. Maybe Lucifer was doing the kid a favor by sending him away. A fresh beginning away from his parents’ legacy might be exactly what he needed.
“Michael, are you okay to ride for ten hours, or do we need to stop halfway for a hotel?”
“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “I can ride twice as long as you can on your old, fat ass.”
Lucifer exhaled and smacked the back of the kid’s head. “Our ally club is being generous enough to sponsor you for a couple years. While you’re with them, you will show respect. If not, as enforcer, Bear here will be the one to string you up in their torture shed.”
“Let’s just go,” he mumbled and walked over to his shitty bike. He shoved his bag into the saddlebag. Unfortunately, the saddlebag fell off and crashed onto the gravel.
I looked around the parking lot, an idea taking shape until I found what I needed. A black Cadillac Escalade with red flames painted on the sides.
“That Caddie belong to Balthazar?” I asked Lucifer.
He chuckled. “How did you guess?”
“So that means it belongs to Michael now.”
Michael scoffed. “I don’t want to drive that ugly ass piece of—”
“Enough!” I shouted. “Yeah, the flames are a bit much, but that is a nice fucking vehicle that will survive the ten-hour drive. You can get it painted when we get home. Or fuck, sell it and use the money to buy a new bike. Either way, you’re leaving that piece of shit here.” I pointed to his rusty bike.
Michael sighed and crossed his hands over his chest.
Lucifer shrugged. “Works for me. Keys are in the glove box.”
