Reign (The Henchmen MC Book 1)

by Jessica Gadziala

  I woke up sometime later from a nightmare, being jostled up. My eyes shot open to find Reign looking down at me as he carried me back down the hall.

  “You were screaming,” he said gruffly, watching my face.

  I rested my head against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his arms across my back and under my knees.

  “Sorry I woke you up,” I murmured, breathing in his scent.

  His arms squeezed me tighter, and then I was being lowered into the bed, the sheets still warm from his body. I curled up on my side, pulling my knees to my chest. The lights dimmed. The TV stayed on, but low. Then the mattress depressed behind me as Reign climbed in. The blankets got pulled up.

  And then I was in his arms. He scooted in behind me, his body curling around mine, his arm going across my belly, pulling me backward into him.

  I was almost asleep, warmed by his body, comforted by his closeness, when he said softly in my ear, “Sorry I'm an asshole.”

  I fell asleep smiling.

  Twelve

  Reign

  Sorry I'm an asshole? Sorry I'm an asshole?

  What the fuck had gotten into me?

  I didn't apologize. Ever. Not ever. That was another thing that was brow beat into me and Cash from a young age- apologizing was admitting weakness. We were not weak. We did not apologize for anything. We did what we damn well pleased and everyone else just had to man up and deal with that.

  And then there I was... fucking apologizing to some chick I knew for two point three seconds for just being myself? For drinking and screwing like I always did? For coming home late? For making her see she wanted me?

  Alright. Maybe that was a dick move.

  She was traumatized and abused and didn't know me.

  But, fuck, walking in on her holding up that gun like she fully intended to use it, legs spread, arms steady... hottest shit I ever saw.

  Then she started shaking and I felt like shit for being so fucking stupid. I was trashed. And I never had someone in my house to worry about scaring. It just didn't even cross my mind until I walked into the doorway and there she was.

  But, fuck, she was wet for me.

  That was something I stayed up awake thinking about for hours. Those thin yoga pants did nothing to hide how much she wanted me.

  Then she was screaming again. The sound was something that sunk into my skin, that lodged itself in my brain, a sound I was worried I would always hear. Even when she was gone. When she was safe and happy and away from me. I was pretty sure her screams would keep me awake at night.

  I had to go out and get her. I couldn't just let her lay there alone, working through some shit memory because she wanted her space. She shouldn't have had to deal with any of that, least of all alone.

  So I brought her to my bed, tucked her into my side. And there was no more screaming.

  I got up early, making coffee, trying to get away from her. Her scent was all over me. That lotion that Cash had bought for her. The shampoo in her hair. It was covering me. All over my skin. I needed to get the hell away from her before she woke up to me groping her all over.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice a sleep-filled whisper as she padded out toward me.

  “You alright?”

  Her head cocked to the side, her brows drawing together. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Nightmares,” I said, shrugging, throwing cream and sugar into a cup for her.

  “Oh,” she said, biting into her lip.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, taking her coffee, careful to not let her fingers touch mine. “Just the same old stuff,” she said, trying to brush it off, but I could see the pain lingering there behind her eyes. “The dreams will fade eventually.”

  No they wouldn't. But I didn't want to tell her that. Instead, I reached into my pocket, grabbing the burner I had pulled out of the safe and charged. “Here,” I said, holding it out to her.

  She gave me a smile, reaching for it, her brow lifted. “Big bag biker guys don't spring for smart phones?”

  “It's a burner. Call your father.”

  Her eyes widened. “What? You sure that's a good idea? I mean won't that like... put us or him at risk or something?”

  “If his phones are tapped, yeah. Which is why you're going to keep it short and sweet. Say hi. Tell him you're safe. That he should not give into V's demands because he doesn't have you anymore. Tell him you'll be in touch when you can. Then hang up. Got it?”

  She nodded, putting down her coffee cup, opening the phone and typing in a number. “Are you just going to stand there?” she asked, looking uncomfortable.

  “Yep,” I said, watching her hit the send and bring the phone to her ear.

  There was a long pause, her face seeming to crumple more and more as each ring went unanswered. “Dad?” she asked, finally, her voice a weird whisper. “No. Dad. Stop. I'm fine. Dad. Dad!” she said, almost yelling. Trying to talk over him, I imagined. “I got out. I got away. Yeah. I can't...” she said, looking over at me. “I can't tell you that but I'm okay. So don't agree to the deal, okay? No matter what. I, ah, I have to go. Yeah. I know. No, I have to go. I'll be in touch when I can. Okay. Love you too. Bye Daddy.”

  I held out my hand and she gave me the phone, tears clinging to her lashes, but not spilling down her cheeks. I took the phone, removing the battery and SIM card and tossing them. “Good reunion?”

  “He was confused and kinda... frantic. But he said he wouldn't do anything until he heard from me again.”

  “You did...” I started, then the rumbling caused me to cut off and look toward the door. Because I wasn't expecting Cash. And while, on occasion, he would drop by, it was never after a Friday night at church without some kind of communication about it. Two seconds later, he slammed through the front door and I knew something was wrong. “Fuck is it?” I asked, moving away from Summer.

  Cash looked pointedly over at Summer. “It's a full-on fucking manhunt, man. There are men everywhere. Talking to everyone. Putting up a quarter mill for word on her.”

  “Two-hundred fifty thousand for me?” Summer croaked, looking pale.

  “You'd be worth five times that in just over a year if your father went through with the deal,” I supplied.

  “And you were right,” Cash went on, ignoring Summer which was so unlike him that I felt unease settling in. If he was ignoring a woman, his mind must be on more important things. And there was only one thing more important than women for him. “He's got the cops. They're all over with posters of her, claiming some missing person bullshit. They were at the club early this morning, starting shit.”

  I felt my back straighten. “What kind of shit?”

  “Wanting to look around kind of shit. No warrant so they didn't get to see shit. But still. Not normal. We don't get heat from them. Why are they snooping?”

  That was a good question. And there was no good answer. Unless someone saw me driving that night. Someone saw me with some bitch on my bike. Unless V had some clue. And if he had some clue, it wouldn't be long before he figured out I had a house. And that my house had very little to no protection.

  “Fuck,” I growled, running a hand down my face.

  “Gonna have to move her,” Cash said, watching me.

  “Tell me some shit I don't already know, man.”

  “It's time to bring in the club on this.”

  “We ain't telling them, Cash. Understand me? We'll bring her. She's just a bitch I'm fucking with. That's it.”

  “Fine. But... do it now man,” Cash said, his tone firm.

  “It's that bad?” I asked, feeling too cut off from everything. Not liking it. Not liking Cash having to be my eyes and ears.

  “Not yet. But it could be if they somehow have something to go on,” he said with a nod.

  “Can someone stop talking in weird badass 'we don't need to use complete sentences' lingo and tell me what is going on?” Summer asked, her voice strong if not with a hint of fear in it.

>   Cash looked over, his features softening. “Heya sweetheart,” he started, giving her a small smile. “For some reason, V is sniffing around The Henchmen. And if he has a hunch on some chick he values in the millions, well he ain't gonna give up on it. So we got to move you out of here. There's no protection.”

  To her credit, she didn't freak. She barely even winced. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To the club,” I told her.

  Then she freaked. Her voice got high and almost squeaky. “To the club?” she repeated. “Didn't he just say that the cops were snooping around? What's to stop them from going to get a warrant and doing some real snooping and finding me there? Or from V just charging in there looking for me?”

  “First,” I said, my voice calm. “Probable cause is what is stopping them. They don't even technically have a missing persons report.” Which, speaking of, was something I hadn't considered before. Why wasn't there a missing person's report? Richard Lyon should have filed one. No matter what bullshit V fed him about not involving the cops. Good, upstanding citizens called the cops.

  “And the part about V not charging in?” Summer persisted.

  “No one charges into the compound,” was my answer.

  “That's it? That's all you got? No one's done it before so no one would try? Pardon me, but that is an asinine reason and you know it.”

  “You want protection? You stay with me. V might be a criminal, but he doesn't start a war by charging into someone's territory because he thinks something. He gets information first. And he ain't gonna get shit from us,” I said, shrugging. “So pack your shit and be ready in twenty.” She glared at me, arms crossed over her chest. “Fucking now, Summer.”

  Her eyes lowered, but she went to do what she was told.

  “She's not wrong,” Cash reasoned.

  “I know that, but the compound is safer than here is at present. Not saying we're staying there.”

  “You want me to call Wolf? Get him to get here with the truck?”

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding. Though having to explain to him how I managed to keep my personal house from him all these years was not going to be fun. Or why we were sneaking a bitch into the compound for that matter. And why that bitch had her face plastered all over (fake) missing persons reports.

  Thirteen

  Summer

  It was a stupid plan. A supremely stupid plan and he knew it and Cash knew it and I damn well knew it so I couldn't understand why we were all going along with it. Well, okay. I had very little choice. I didn't even have shoes for god's sake. And V was looking for me everywhere. A redheaded woman walking down the street wouldn't exactly go unnoticed.

  So I had to go.

  But why they were bringing me there, yeah, that made no sense whatsoever.

  I grabbed the stuff off the floor in the bedroom, looking over at the gun, then pulling out the magazine and tucking that and the gun into a sweater that I rolled up. He had a whole arsenal. He wouldn't miss it. Besides, if there came a time when I couldn't tolerate their reckless stupidity and needed to take off on my own, having some kind of weapon would be a major asset.

  I dragged everything into the bathroom, piling it into the shopping bags Cash had dropped off.

  There was the sound of a car outside that had my heart spasming in my chest as I grabbed my bags. The front door opened and closed. And then there were three voices. Three.

  Creeping over to the door, I pressed my ear against it, trying to see if the voices were raised or anything. Hearing only calm, deep tones, I opened the door and stepped out.

  And then there was a giant hulking mass of man standing between Reign and Cash, somehow managing to almost dwarf them with his size. And given that they were both their own tall piles of muscle, that was saying something.

  The new guy was solid. As in... I was pretty sure he could pick up a truck like it weighed nothing more than a Matchbox. He had his hair in an undercut which was surprisingly fashion forward for a biker, and a long but groomed beard.

  His eyes shifted, as if he had sensed my presence, and I was pinned under the intensity I saw there. Not just because they were a pretty honey color that I had never seen in person before, but because they seemed almost... empty. But in a different way than Martin's were empty. A haunted kind of empty.

  “This is Wolf,” Reign informed me, nodding to the guy who was still pinning me with his gaze. Seriously. I wasn't sure I could move forward if he didn't look away.

  I swallowed hard against the dryness in my throat. “Ah... hi... Wolf.” Who the hell was named Wolf? Seriously. That was not a name. Then again, neither was Reign. Or Cash for that matter. Were they even their real names? Oh, god... did I not know the real names of the men I was entrusting my life to?

  “Woman,” Wolf said, nodding at me, then looking away.

  Woman? Woman? Did people actually greet other people like that? Was I supposed to just nod by head at bikers and say “man”? Seriously. Who taught them how to...

  “Summer,” Reign said, his voice frustrated like maybe he had called me more than once. Which was a possibility.

  “What?”

  “Gonna get your ass over here so we can go or what?”

  “Well since you asked so nicely,” I said dryly, moving toward them.

  “Wolf is gonna take you in his truck.” Oh, great. That was just wonderful. “He's got blackouts but you're gonna lay on the floor of the backseat.”

  “Seriously?” I asked, my brow shooting up. “Why not just throw me in the trunk like a corpse?”

  “Ain't got a trunk,” Wolf answered so seriously I almost laughed. Almost.

  I sighed. “Fine. Backseat it is,” I said, brushing past them toward the door. I glared at Cash as I passed. “You said you'd bring shoes the next time you visited,” I said, looking down at my bare feet.

  “Got um,” he surprised me by saying. “Just couldn't bring um on the bike. I'll bring um by the compound later.”

  Seeing as he took the wind out of my sails, I walked outside to find a massive black pick-up truck, Reign's bike tied down in the bed of it. All three of them went toward the back, I imagined, to get the bike down. I threw all my bags on the backseat, pulled my sweatshirt on, putting up the hood, and attempted to haul myself upward. And I say 'attempted' because it was like a million feet off the ground and I couldn't even reach the grab bars to help myself in.

  “Short,” Wolf's voice said behind me, making me jump. And then, his huge hands went to my waist, almost spanning it completely. And I was off my feet, then flying into the backseat of the car. The door slammed as soon as I was inside and I sighed, getting down on the floor of the backseat which was, thankfully, clean. Almost brand new kind of clean.

  The bed slammed closed, someone banged on the side of the truck. Then I heard Reign's and Cash's bikes rumble to life and start to pull out. Wolf climbed up, slamming his door, and turning over the engine. “You aight?”

  “Oh, yeah. Backseat floors are super comfy,” I said, annoyed at myself for complaining.

  “You're small,” he said as if that made slamming into the front seats more comfortable.

  Then we were moving. And there was no more talking. Not that that was surprising. Since Wolf seemed to have the vocabulary of a toddler.

  To say I was anxious about going to this “compound” or “church” or “club” or whatever the hell it was called was an understatement. I liked it less that I was not really being given a choice. I had the distinct impression that if I refused to go with them, I would have ended up trussed up like a pig and deposited onto the floor regardless.

  We drove for a while, my body bouncing none too gently over the bumps in the road before I felt the car idle for a minute and then pull in and park. Not given any directions about what to do after we arrived, I stayed on the floor and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Finally, the door flew open at my feet and there was Wolf. “Woman,” he said and I swear he was s
omehow able to communicate in that word the phrase 'come on, we're here. I'll help you down'.

  So I scooted out toward the door, slipping my legs down. Before I could even reach my feet toward the step-up bar, Wolf's huge mitts were around my waist and pulling me downward.

  “Wait... I need to get my bags,” I objected as I was pulled downward.

  “Got um,” Wolf said, putting me on my feet. And I took that as 'I will get them, don't worry about it'.

  “Hands off,” Reign's voice growled. Yes, growled. At Wolf. Whose hands fell from my waist which, admittedly, did not need to be there, but he had me pinned with those strange eyes of his again and I didn't even think to squirm away. Wolf made some kind of non-committal sound in his throat, reached into the backseat, and gathered my bags. “Bags,” he said, holding them out to me.

  “Thank you, Wolf,” I said, giving him a genuine smile. I don't know why, what with the hollow eyes and weird lack of words, but I liked him. I understood him in a strange way. “I appreciate it.”

  He jerked his chin at me. “Later, woman.” Then he ambled off into the building.

  A building, I might add, that was or had been at some time, a mechanic shop. Low and long and windowless. Protected by huge fences with barbed wire on top. There were men on the flat roofs with what looked like guns strapped around their backs. Off the back was a massive newer construction. Again, oddly windowless. The grounds were on the large side, picnic tables and chairs strewn about, a massive grill set up, a shed in the back.

  “Babe,” Reign's voice reached me. My eyes found his. “Gonna keep gawking all day or get your ass inside where it's safe?”

  “Right,” I said, stiffening as I fell into step beside him. I was led to the front door where music was coming from, loud for the early morning. Cash fell into step behind me. Wolf had already gone inside. I got two feet inside the door and froze. Because every eye, literally every eye, had fallen on me. Dozens and dozens of rough and tough bikers. Some young and attractive like Reign, Cash, and Wolf. Some older. Rougher. Road-weary.