Edison (The Henchmen MC Book 10)

by Jessica Gadziala

  Either seeing it and understanding my need to hide, or maybe just too close to his own orgasm to care as much anymore, his hand released my jaw, and my face buried so I could hard-blink and slow-breathe through the utterly absurd sting of tears as his hips jerked upward into me, and Edison came with my name cursing out from between his lips.

  His arms wrapped around me after, a confinement I never would have allowed normally, but I was too busy trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me to fight it, to pull away, to put the distance between us that was smart seeing as this was just a casual fuck, and the last thing we needed to do was let the feel-good hormones let us think it was more than that.

  It wasn't, damnit.

  Not even if my stupid ass was fighting wholly ridiculous tears.

  I was just overworked, under-slept, and bone-deep worried about the six-month anniversary coming up in less than a week. That was the only explanation to my reaction.

  I didn't do feelings.

  I damn sure never did intimacy and lovemaking and after-sex snuggling.

  Generally, I went back to his place so I could peace out while he dealt with the condom. Fuck buddies were fuck buddies, and I didn't need to explain my behavior.

  Why then did I have this strange feeling like I needed to come up with some excuse as to why he couldn't stay over?

  And why the ever-loving hell was there a stupid pang in my chest even at the idea of him leaving?

  Edison's hand drifted lazily down my back, sending another of those freaking shivers through my body.

  "Sensitive," he murmured innocently enough, honestly enough seeing as I did tend to react strongly to the barest of touches from him.

  But my confused mind shocked back at that, at thinking he maybe thought I was being sensitive.

  Which, well, I totally was.

  And that was not okay.

  I couldn't handle that right now.

  I had too much on my plate.

  I had bills to pay.

  I had a body to toughen up.

  I had a sister to worry about.

  And I had a man's life hanging in the balance, it was becoming more and more clear that I was going to need to use all the training I had gained to take the breath out of his unworthy lungs.

  I needed a good fuck, not feelings.

  I had the fuck.

  It was over.

  It was time to shake it off, and move the hell on.

  I didn't have time for this.

  I didn't have the brain space to deal with my weird reaction to him.

  "Uh-oh," Edison mumbled into my neck. "There she goes."

  I pulled back, looking down at him with creased brows. "There who goes?"

  "The real Lenny," he told me, voice matter-of-fact, eyes almost a little... disappointed?

  "What the hell are you talking about?" I asked, voice a little more snippy than it should have been. But I was tired, confused, and I didn't know why I refused to move off of him, to disconnect. Usually, I couldn't lift off fast enough.

  "Got to see the real you for a while tonight, love. Without all the guards, without the barbed wire and the growl."

  My spine stiffened, not liking that, not wanting anyone to be able to see that I wasn't just who I portrayed myself to be, that there were other levels. It would serve no good purpose for that to get out.

  "The guards and the barbed wire and the growl are the real me," I countered, voice seething.

  "Don't lie to my fucking face, Lenny," he demanded, voice offended.

  "I don't know who..." I started, then pushed hard at his chest, pulling against the hold that was still around me. "Let me up. I'm not having this argument with your cock still inside me," I snapped, shoving harder, this time him letting me go so I could jump off the end of the bed. "I don't know what the fuck you think just happened. But this is just sex. Just scratching an itch. You didn't get to somehow see behind some guards at some deeper, mushy Lenny. Your cock isn't a sledgehammer. Get the fuck over yourself."

  I snatched a random shirt off the floor, pulling it on, glad when it came past my vag, giving me at least a little bit of cover.

  "Right," Edison said, his voice still frustratingly calm as he moved to stand, reaching to pull his boxer briefs and pants back on, but leaving the front open, likely still all-too uncomfortably aware of his need to deal with the condom, but like me, needing to have a fight at least somewhat clothed. "So that was why when you came, you had tears in your eyes, right? That's why you looked at me like you'd never had a cock before. That's why you relaxed into my hold instead of pushing me away. Tell yourself whatever you need to tell yourself to be able to face yourself in the mirror, Lenny, but don't ever fucking lie to me and tell me that I didn't see what I saw. And that was that there is something else to you. Maybe you didn't mean to show it to me, but too fucking bad. You did. Deal with it."

  "Deal with it?" I hissed, eyes getting small as my arms crossed over my chest.

  Deal with it.

  That was exactly what I needed not to do.

  I needed to deny deny deny.

  I needed to pretend this entire fucking night didn't happen. Even if I would feel the ache of him between my legs for a whole day.

  "Tell you what," I said when he just stared at me with eyes that were boring in way too deep. "I will deal with it. By getting you out of my apartment. Goodnight, Edison. Thanks for the sex. Fuck you for this," I said, waving between us.

  He nodded a bit solemnly at that, reaching to snag his shirt, pulling it on. He moved toward me after, head ducked down to keep unyielding eye-contact that I knew I couldn't break.

  "I see you, Lenny," he told me, and those words had depth, sank down deep inside me where they most definitely didn't need to be. "And you're not as fucking scary as you think you are. I get you need this, the space to try to put your shields back up. But know this," he told me, snagging my chin hard enough so I couldn't simply whip my head to dislodge it, "I'm the only one who can see you. And you are going to fucking crave the freedom not to have to try so hard to hide yourself. And you are going to break. And call me. And despite this," he said, releasing my chin, waving between us, meaning the argument we were having, "I am going to pick up. Think you've never had a man who gave a shit enough to tell you that. So I'm telling you. Push me, shove me, spit your venom at me, but I'm still going to pick up when you need me."

  With that, with that fucking bomb he just dropped into my life, he turned, and was gone.

  And as my front door slammed, and his departure set off the timer, detonating into the quiet of my apartment, creating a void that had never been there before, sending shards of shrapnel shooting through the air, sliding into my skin, digging deep until parts of it managed to penetrate the cold, dead, lifeless thing I called a heart.

  I slumped down onto my bed.

  It shouldn't have mattered.

  He was just a guy, one of many.

  He was just a fuck, one of several.

  He was nothing.

  Yet, even as I tried to tell myself that, I knew it was a lie, and I somehow didn't have the strength even to try to convince myself of it this time.

  He wasn't nothing.

  He was the first man I had ever had in my life to tell me he would be there for me, to do so with an earnest determination, hellbent on showing me he meant it.

  I wasn't sure how a well-adjusted woman handled that situation.

  But damaged, fucked-up me, yeah she jumped off the end of her bed where she collapsed, ran into her bathroom, and threw up until there was nothing left in her system.

  I was pretty sure that was not how I was supposed to respond.

  But I guess I could always be counted on to find new levels of my fuckedupedness.

  NINE

  Edison

  I stopped in the abandoned stairwell, dealing with the condom, tossing it into the bin that countless Johns had used judging by the pile of condoms found inside, zipped up, and headed out into the crisp Autumn air
, feeling it bite at my skin, bring my anger back a few notches.

  It wasn't even right to be pissed.

  Not at her anyway.

  I knew damage. I had seen it in countless variations all through my life. I had it myself.

  Lenny genuinely couldn't help it. Not when confronted like that.

  I called her on something that she didn't want to believe about herself. I forced her to confront a reality she tried to avoid.

  And I did it while I was still inside her.

  It was as vulnerable as a woman like her could be, and I went ahead and pushed anyway.

  The argument was expected.

  Hell, maybe it was even good.

  I had a feeling that she was way too comfortable with the fact that that sharp tongue of hers could slice anyone open, sending them running to nurse their wounds.

  And she could get the distance that she thought she wanted.

  But I didn't shy away from some cuts and scrapes. Hell, I wouldn't shy away from someone trying to gut me.

  She had met her match finally.

  And that scared the shit out of her.

  I couldn't fault her that.

  But the fact of the matter was, back in that apartment, shit changed for me.

  I was in.

  All in.

  I didn't know nearly everything about her yet, but I knew enough. I knew enough to want to know more. To want to know it all.

  So that was the plan.

  But I was done.

  If I wanted to get what I wanted from her, I needed not to be one of the pushy men she had known in her life. She would be quick to shut that shit down. She had too much practice.

  So I told her I would be there for her. And, what's more, I meant the words. And she knew that I meant them.

  If she called, if she texted, if she showed up, I would answer, I would text back, I would open the door.

  And whatever she needed, she could have it.

  Except for more illusions, delusions, or lies.

  When she came back to me, she would know that I wasn't above calling her on her bullshit. That if she wanted to take me up on an offer to show her that a man could be there, then she had to do it with some honesty for a change.

  I knew it wouldn't happen tomorrow.

  I knew she would convince herself that she was done with me, but it would happen eventually.

  I'd get the text or the call, I'd get the announcement that there was a woman at the compound for me.

  And that was when shit was going to change.

  Until then, I was really fucking curious to see how she was going to handle our last session.

  She was too stubborn and prideful not to show.

  I guess I only had a few hours to see how that whole situation would play out.

  "Lone survivor, huh?" I asked Reeve as I walked in the front door, watching him systematically gather empties into an old milk crate to toss into the recycling.

  "Roan is up on the roof," he countered, though that was hardly newsworthy anymore. It was more unusual to see him anywhere else."Strike out?" he asked, slanting a look my way with his lips tipped up slightly. He wasn't one for small talk most of the time, but when he was alone with his own thoughts for too long, he tended to try to strike up some conversation when someone happened by, like he knew he would get too dark if he didn't.

  "No," I countered, going behind the bar to grab the bottle of vodka, twisting off the cap, raising it up, and fucking chugging.

  He let out a soft chuckle as he watched, shaking his head.

  "Must be a hell of a woman to be drinking like that after not striking out."

  "She is," I agreed, swiping the back of my hand across my mouth, swearing I could still taste her there even after all the vodka.

  Sweet.

  She was so fucking sweet.

  I had just gotten my fill, and I somehow wanted more.

  He nodded at that. "Hope it works out for you," he said, voice going guarded again. "It'd be good for you to have a woman in your life."

  With that, he put the milk crate down for me to deal with, and walked off in the direction of his room.

  Women, you would find if you paid close enough attention, were a trigger for Reeve. Why? Well, no one but Cy knew that, and he wasn't about to share his actual brother's secrets, not even to his biker brothers who never kept many of their own.

  Whatever it was that went down, it put a dark mark on his soul.

  I wonder if it was one that could have light shined on it again.

  I finished most of the clean-up, figuring the newer bloods were likely out getting their rocks off, and wouldn't be back until morning. And then Summer would get up and start to clean up her own party.

  In the end, I got maybe an hour of sleep before it was time to get up, shower, head to the gym, and see what was going to happen with Lenny.

  Five minutes into the session, I was starting to think I was wrong, that she wasn't going to show.

  I went to walk out toward reception, wanting to see if she had canceled, or just chosen not to show up, when my eyes caught sight of her.

  In the ring with fucking Pagan, of all people. I had to stop myself from asking aloud What the fuck is this shit? and firmly planted my feet, watching as Pagan slammed her backward when she advanced.

  When it came to old-fashioned street fighting, there was hardly anyone who matched him. He had been soaking the floor of the ring at Hex for years, taking down men who had a hundred pounds of muscle on him.

  But Pagan had a leashed beast that he let out.

  And, it seemed, each time he shoved Lenny back, her own yanked at its chain.

  "Yeah, get fuckin' angry. This shit isn't gonna do dick in a fight, girl."

  It was the girl that did it.

  And I knew Pagan well enough to know he had said it on purpose.

  Just to piss her off.

  Just to see what she would do.

  And Lenny, well, she delivered.

  But she didn't do some LINE or Krav Maga or Jiu Jitsu.

  Oh no. She moved in just at arm's length, used two fingers, and brought Pagan to his knees with a pressure point move that I taught her.

  My slow clap was what made her finally release him, whipping around to face me.

  "Nice," I told her, meaning it, but she took the praise with a scowl.

  I didn't really expect anything different.

  "Fuck," Pagan hissed, rubbing at his muscle. "Yeah, sorry. Know she had a class with you, but she got caught up watching me and that new kid from Hex fucking around in here. I know an eager look when I see one. And she was willing. Guess maybe she'd rather put her hands on me than you," he mused, smirk devilish, knowing exactly what buttons he was pushing. I hadn't said shit to him, but I had given a vague answer when Sugar had asked when he rolled up this morning. Fuck what you heard about women, men spread shit like wildfire just as quickly as women did.

  Pagan obviously heard, then saw an opportunity to fuck with me about it.

  Oh, brotherhood.

  It wasn't real if they didn't make you fucking hate your life at times.

  "Fuck off," I told him, tone casual, like I was telling him good morning, making him chuckle. "You about done avoiding me, love? Can we get our lesson over with?"

  "I wasn't avoiding you," she was quick to correct, too quick for it to be the truth. "I saw an opportunity to learn something from a good fighter. I took it. That's all."

  She moved to brush past me, but my hand grabbed her wrist gently, stopping her right at my side. "Remember how I feel about you lying to my face, Lenny."

  "That sounds a whole lot like your problem," she shot back, yanking away, then charging back into the session room.

  I had a feeling I was about to be in a world of fucking pain.

  I suddenly regretted teaching her all the spots I had.

  I looked over at Pagan, grinning like the devil himself. "That's about to hurt, man," he told me, sounding like he enjoyed the idea.

&n
bsp; "Yeah," I agreed, reaching up to stroke a hand down my beard.

  "Hell of a woman though."

  "Yeah," I repeated, turning away, "I know."

  Considering the purple smudges under her eyes that spoke of even more sleeplessness than usual, she was on her game when I walked into that room. She managed to keep me just barely at arm's length for the next fifty minutes, then curled away from me, declaring she had somewhere to be before tearing out of the gym like it was on fire.

  "Yeah, that went about as could be expected," I said to myself, reaching up to rub at a bunch of the sore spots she had inflicted.

  I walked out with a coiled feeling in my stomach, realizing our classes were done, wondering how shit was going to shake out if she chose not to call, if whatever she had going on was enough to keep her mind occupied, if she could easily just move on.

  "Who pissed in your Cheerios?" Sugar asked as I walked into the compound, now empty save for the newer members, everyone else heading to bring their kids home and settle them back in.

  "Didn't get a chance to tell them," Pagan said, twisting the top off a beer.

  "Tell us what?" Roderick asked, looking up from his cell, eyes clearly excited about anything other than sitting around doing nothing, even if all it was was a chance to pile-on.

  "I went to the gym this morning and... who the ever loving fuck are you?" he demanded to know, drawing a gun so fast that the motion blurred.

  We didn't even see who he was raising his gun on, but all of us who had them - not including me - reached for guns as we turned toward the doorway to the kitchen where a man was standing, leaning against the doorway, a goddamn sandwich in his hand, looking at a group of armed bikers like there wasn't a worry in the world.

  "Are you eating our fucking lunchmeat?" Roderick asked, face an almost comical level of confused by the situation.

  And, well, it was fucking strange.

  Who broke into an outlaw biker compound, made a sandwich, then just stood there waiting to be noticed?

  He looked to maybe be in his late thirties with brown hair pulled up much like mine, somewhat European features, and gray eyes.

  "Ya might consider adding some turkey or roast beef to yer selection," he said, bringing his sandwich up to take a bite.