"Life gets in the way," I guessed.
"For all of us," he agreed.
"How old are they?"
"My sisters? Twenty-five for the twins. Then twenty-three, twenty-one, and nineteen."
Five sisters. Jesus.
"Just babies still," I said, butting my hip into his to guide him down a side street.
"Yeah," he agreed with a sage nod, the kind that could only rightly come from a criminal when he couldn't be any older than thirty, someone who had lived a very different, very difficult kind of life. "But you try telling them that."
To that, I smiled. "Yeah. It was that way with Astrid too. I mean, it still is at times. I know I'm only a few years older, but I look at her and see just a kid still."
"Yeah. It's about that twenty-eight mark when life starts to really fuck you up."
"They think they're so grown and they have yet to wake up with aches in their lower backs yet," I agreed, smiling, feeling a twinge in my ankle, the kind that always bothered me in the cold. I had a knee that ached in the wet too. And fingers that started to sound like fireworks popping off when I stretched them in the morning.
"A sub shop?" Roderick asked, brows drawn down when we stopped outside it.
"His brother owns it. He claims that is how he knows it isn't bugged. Don't even think about ordering anything. I think you can get salmonella from simply breathing in here."
"Who is that?" Eduardo asked, jumping up from his table in the back, upturning his chair in the process, making it clatter to the floor, drawing the attention from the people behind the counter. "No. No no no no. You know you can't be bringing no narcs in here."
"Easy, Eddie. He's not a narc," I assured him. "Turn around," I demanded, pumping my elbow into Roderick's arm. "See, he's a Henchmen."
"What is a Henchmen doing with you? Ain't you enemies and shit? Competition?"
"Not enemies. Just not friendly either. Except on this job. We need each other to try to track down some hard-to-find merchandise," I explained, watching as he righted his chair, seeming to lose a bit of the tension as he sat back down, waving a hand in front of himself, inviting us to sit across from him.
"Merchandise is a fluid thing," he said, looking around at the people eating there suspiciously when he should have been looking at them with pity for their upcoming Exorcist impressions over the food. "Maybe you can help me out here by solving this crossword puzzle," he suggested, pushing an empty one toward us.
Eduardo thought he lived in some spy movie, that everyone was listening, that he had to be covert all the time or risk being found out.
I pushed the paper and pen over to Roderick, letting him do the silly shit.
"This is important, Eddie. We need this by Christmas."
He took the paper back, eyeing Roderick's surprisingly neat handwriting for a long minute. "This, this shouldn't be too hard," he said, pointing with the tip of his pen. "You'll pay, but it is doable. But this one," he said, pointing to the Double Trigger, "this one will be a problem. The only people who want these things are collectors. And collectors, well, they collect. They hold on. Hoard. So not many of these things hit the market unless someone dies, or someone falls on hard times and needs to sell."
"Can you think of anyone we can talk to who might know where to find this kind of merchandise?"
"I have a few names, maybe."
"There is no maybe. You either do or you don't," I told him, getting a bit worked up, feeling Roderick's hip bump into mine, leaving me to wonder if it was just because we were standing close, or if it was intentional like he was trying to tell me to play nice or something.
"Hey. Not everyone wants to get involved with you, Liv. I need to reach out, put feelers out."
"Those feelers better be out and touching things sometime tonight," I told him. "I want some names tomorrow," I specified, fishing a hundred out of my wallet, pushing it across the table toward him, having to fight back a smile while he fumbled like an amateur to quickly hide the money under the pile of crossword puzzles, appearing like some inept spy in a silly spoof movie.
"Fine. Tomorrow. Ten a.m."
"We'll be here," I agreed, turning and walking out, rolling my eyes a bit when Roderick stayed behind to thank him before jogging up to catch me near the corner of the street already.
"You could try a softer touch with him," he suggested.
"Don't tell me how to talk to my contacts."
"I'm just saying, he looked like he was going to piss himself while you were talking to him. But when I stroked his ego a bit, he gave me a name to have Astrid look into when we get home too."
"That rat bastard," I grumbled, snatching the piece of paper out of Roderick's hand to see if the name sounded familiar to me. "Well, you can do all the stroking you want. I can't bring myself to stroke the egos of silly men."
"That's fine. We're a good team then. I can do the schmoozing. You can do the scaring the piss out of people thing. It's a good balance."
He wasn't wrong.
Balance was what - for all intents and purposes - our team was missing.
Camden was, obviously, a man of action since he had no words. I had a tendency to snap off at the mouth. And Astrid, well, she did whatever she damn well pleased.
There was no voice of reason, no sweet talker, no silver tongue.
We were all a bit rough and abrasive.
It worked for us as a whole.
It was a rough, abrasive life.
But I was seeing now that balance could be an asset when dealing with certain people.
The rest of the day was just never-ending, mind-numbing research. We'd each been on our phones or laptops trying to track down leads, contacts both old and new. Anything.
We ate delivery pizza and drank enough coffee to fuel an army before we all shuffled off to our rooms around two a.m.
"Here," I said, coming back out after changing with two of the pillows from my bed. "I brought you some pillows," I told him as he collected up the plates and cups, bringing them over to the trash and sink - something none of us would think to do until the morning. We weren't - as a whole - neat freaks. Not slobs, either. Just the kind of people who could easily walk past a full sink for a few days until something in it starts to get funky, demanding some actual action.
"Thanks. I think I'll be all set with blankets," he said, jerking his chin toward the couch that was littered with four of them.
"Don't worry about the dishes."
"I don't mind," he said, turning on the water. "My mom would whip my ass if she knew I didn't help clean up when I was staying over."
"That must be nice," I mused, watching as he shot a raised-brow look over his shoulder at me. "Not getting your ass kicked, but having a mom who cares so much."
"It is," he agreed, but didn't ask. Most people would ask. What happened to mine. Where she was. If I had ever known that feeling of a mother's love. He didn't press, demand answers to questions he had no business asking.
There was a throat-clearing, making me turn to find Cam standing there, ready for bed in a pair of black cotton pajama pants and nothing else, showing off a body that was a map of scars.
"I think he wants to make sure you remember to lock your bedroom door," Roderick mused and, what's more, he was right judging by the small-eyed look Cam shot him. "And possibly sleep with a loaded gun on your nightstand," he added making Cam let out a grumbling noise before heading off.
"You're getting a hang of reading him pretty quickly."
"Nah. It's just what any brother figure would think when his girls have a strange man in their house."
That was fair enough. I wondered if Astrid would follow the advice.
"Well, goodnight," I mumbled, feeling oddly awkward in my own home. "Ten a.m.," I reminded him.
"Goodnight, Livvy," he called, the nickname oddly shivering through me, making me full-stop for a second before forcing my feet forward, closing myself in my room, putting a gun on my nightstand, and crawling into bed.
&nb
sp; I didn't sleep for a long time.
Not because of my usual reasons.
My predictable insomnia.
My strobe-like flashbacks of bad moments.
No.
See, my traitorous body was overheated despite Cam clearly getting to the thermostat again - likely while walking past Roderick to make sure he was where he was supposed to be.
Overheated.
Breathing a bit ragged.
Heavy chest.
Thrumming sensations in inappropriate places.
Oh, yeah.
There was no denying what was going on in my body.
And who it was toward.
Though, really, it could have just as easily been the delivery man at this point.
I was just hard up.
Any good looking guy would do.
Or at least that was what I was trying to convince myself of.
Goodnight, Livvy.
FIVE
Roderick
They weren't exactly early risers.
Actually, they weren't even remotely early risers.
In fact, I had been up for over an hour before there was any kind of stirring, a stumble, things falling, then a door opening, the scrape of slippers on hard floor before Astrid appeared in the hallway.
Her hair was bed messy, her eye mascara under her eyes, her oversized bright pink pajama pants twisted so that the drawstring was over by her hip instead of her belly.
"Good morning," I said, trying to hold back the smile when the woman fucking growled at me on her path to the coffee pot.
Camden was next, likely woken up by Astrid's less than graceful exit of the bedroom down the same hall as his.
He almost rushed outward, pulling to a stop when he saw that one of his girls was just safely guzzling down her too hot coffee.
"Liv isn't up yet," I supplied to what seemed to be a questioning look in his eyes.
"She doesn't sleep well," Astrid supplied, the coffee seeming to help her shake off her grumpy mood. "She can't fall asleep some nights. Can't stay asleep others. She usually doesn't show her face before ten most days since she doesn't get to sleep until after four in the morning. This is good," she added, saluting me with her coffee. "Perfect level of kick-your-ass for the morning. I'm off to work," she added, grabbing her laptop, then making her way back to the couch.
Camden came over, making himself coffee, giving me a hard look, then moving back to the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later showered and dressed, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading out.
"You're going to want to wake her up," Astrid said a few minutes later. "If you want to make your meeting at ten," she added, making my head turn to the stove clock, seeing it was well past nine already.
"I think maybe you..."
"I'm all settled in here. You're standing up," she told me, and I'd swear she was trying to hide a smirk.
Figuring it couldn't do any real harm to knock on the woman's locked door, I went to do just that.
Knock.
Then call.
"Sometimes you need to like shake her leg or something," Astrid oh, so helpfully informed me from her position on the couch.
Feeling very much like I was not supposed to be doing such a thing, my hand reached for the knob, surprised when it turned in my hand, pushed soundlessly open.
Her room was much like the rest of the loft - not overly homey, somewhat cluttered, but not exactly unclean.
Her bed was the dominant feature, king-sized, stacked with blankets and pillows despite giving me two of hers to sleep on.
I knew they were hers because they smelled like her. Like lavender and vanilla.
It had been fucking distracting all night.
There was something undeniably intimate about bedding that smelled like a woman.
And if I were being completely honest, I wouldn't mind sharing more than just her pillows with her.
Attraction was such a simple thing - looks and chemistry.
So I didn't need to analyze it, obsess about it. We were simply two attractive people who would likely have a good time in bed. So of course that was on my mind occasionally.
"Livvy?" I called again, voice a bit tentative as I took a few steps in, nearly falling on my face over a pair of boots she'd left in the middle of her floor.
Fuck surveillance systems.
There was no better home protection than a woman and her scattered accessories. Any man who had ever gotten his ankle caught in the handle loops of a purse knew what I was saying. They felt like a goddamn snare, like it was impossible to get away.
"We have to get going soon," I added, taking a few steps closer to the bed where all I could see was a giant pile of blankets, no actual human being at all.
My hand reached up for a light cream blanket, the material faux fur, impossibly soft in my hand, dragging it down a bit to reveal the silky soft-looking strands of Liv's hair that was half covering her face.
Somehow knowing it wasn't my place, my hand still managed to rise, gently brushing it back behind her ear to reveal her face, lashes closed lightly onto the slightly purple circles under her eyes.
Eyes that blinked slowly open at my touch, softly fighting off sleep.
"Roderick? " Her voice was softer than usual.
"I knocked and called," I told her, dropping my hand to my side, having to curl my fingers into a fist. "Astrid suggested sometimes you have to be shaken awake."
"Did she now?" Liv asked, flipping onto her back, slowly dragging herself up to a sitting position, making the blankets pool at her waist
The room was cold. In fact, the whole loft was. And her top was doing nothing to hide that fact. It took more strength than it should have to keep my eyes on her face.
"It's nine-forty," I explained. "We have to get going soon. I made coffee."
Liv's hand rose, running through her hair, her face almost looking disappointed. Maybe it was just tired. Or maybe a mix of the two. Disappointed because she hadn't slept and was still tired.
"Alright. I will be ready in five. Then I can caffeinate, and we can get going. I have the distinct feeling that this is going to be a complete waste of time."
"You never know."
"Ugh."
"What?"
"Nothing worse than an optimist first thing in the morning," she grumbled, planting her head in a pillow for a long second before moving to untangle herself from what seemed like a dozen blankets.
Chuckling, I moved back toward the door. "See you in five," I called, moving out to the kitchen to pour her a coffee, putting in some of the creamer she liked.
"Did you have to shake her? Crawl in bed and wake her up?" Astrid asked, looking over, eyes having lost all their sleep, twinkling with mischief.
"You are nothing but trouble there, cariña," I told her, toasting her with my mug for it.
"Figured me out already, huh?"
"Why would you want me and Liv to hook up?"
"Why not?"
"That's not an answer."
"I think you two could have some fun. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Do you always meddle in her love life?"
"What love life?" she shot back, snorting. "Liv is..."
"Liv is what?" Liv asked as she walked in, her hair pulled back, no makeup, but changed into jeans, brown chunky heel boots, and an oversized oatmeal-colored sweater.
"A very quick, very efficient dresser in the morning," she supplied as I handed Liv her mug of coffee.
"I know you're lying, but it is too early to care," Liv declared, chugging down half her coffee in just a couple seconds. "You ready?" she asked, looking at me, waiting for my nod. "Save a donut for me, please."
"Right. Like anyone else likes your bland flavorless crap," Astrid called waving a hand out at us as she used the other to scroll on her laptop.
"She looks hard at work," Liv said as we moved into the elevator, "but she's probably on Instagram looking at pictures of hamsters."
"Hamsters?"
<
br /> "She is obsessed."
"Why doesn't she have one then?"
"We travel a lot."
"Hamsters are pretty portable pets, no?"
"Not when you have to go internationally," Liv shot back, and she had a point.
We were lucky, The Henchmen.
Our contacts were old, trusted, and did the traveling part for us. The furthest we would have to go would be to one of the coasts. Maybe, once in a blue moon, over the Mexican border. But long gone were the days of having to head to Russia or South America or some shit.
But, it seemed, Liv and her team were still firmly seated in those days.
I didn't envy them that.
First, because it was tedious, never knowing when you might be home or not. Second, because it was dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. Even more so for them, relative unknowns, only three of them against untold others.
"Are you that far off from being able to slow down a bit?"
"Well, if someone's organization didn't snap up every available supplier on this coast..."
"Hey, I just follow orders. Can't hate on me."
"I only hate on you guys when I am on a boat and puking my guts up to try to get to a new contact. Otherwise, I imagine there had to be some dues paying on your - or your president's - part at some point. We all have to fight our way up."
That was true enough.
Granted, Reign had all the contacts, but we'd been forced to pay some dues in the prospect period, but within The Henchmen MC was not the only place in my life that I had needed to claw my way up.
We made it back to the sub shop with two minutes to spare, getting a bit of the runaround until Liv started to throw her attitude around, getting us a name, date, and location.
"No guarantees," Liv scoffed as she shoved the note into her front pocket. "He wants us to travel all the way to fucking Virginia on an off chance with no guarantees."
"It's better than anything else we have right now."
"Have you ever even heard of him?"
"No," I admitted. "But he is just a collector, not some big player."
Roderick Page 6
