Lazarus (The Henchmen MC Book 7)

by Jessica Gadziala

  His hand slid behind his back, pulling out a worn brown leather wallet, all creased and supple-looking, pulling out a condom and placing it at the edge of the bed before tossing the wallet and reaching for his button and zip.

  His hands paused though before the zip was even halfway down.

  "Touch your pussy for me." His voice was a low, deep, rough rumble that moved through my insides, turning my stomach liquid.

  I would never call myself a prude, but masturbating had always, in the past, been a private thing, something I found embarrassing to do with a partner around, let alone intimately watching.

  But it was Lazarus.

  And he was asking in that voice with that look in his eye after being just so... him- so good, so understanding, so perfect.

  My hand didn't even hesitate in sliding down my belly and between my legs, pressing into my clit and the contact on the overly sensitive point made my entire body do a jolt.

  "Fuck, that's sexy," he growled, finally undoing his pants and pulling them and his boxer briefs down in one swift motion.

  My sex did a clench that was so strong it was practically an orgasm as he reached down and took his thick cock in his hand and started stroking it while he watched me.

  Emboldened, my fingers slid from my clit and pressed inside me.

  And Lazarus, well, he freaking growled.

  He released his cock, grabbed the condom and made short work of protecting us.

  His body curled over mine, one hand reaching down to pull my hand away from my sex and pinning it above my head as he surged inside me.

  And before my mind could even process the overwhelming pleasure of that, all I could feel and think was: right. It felt so, so right to have him inside me.

  He withdrew slightly and pressed back in and there was no more thinking- just the feel of his body moving inside mine, his hand squeezing mine, his lips pressing sweet kisses over my lips, my jaw, my one good eyelid.

  "Faster," I demanded, my hands digging into his back as my legs folded across his hips, my pelvis grinding up into his- demanding harder, faster, needing release like I needed my next breath.

  "No," his voice whispered in my ear, sending a shiver through my body. "Slow and sweet," he insisted, pressing inside me again- deeper, our bodies as close as was possible.

  And I broke apart.

  The orgasm was the likes of which I had never felt before- one deep, powerful pulsation that seemed to overtake my entire body, making my vision black out for a second, my ears to go deaf, my air to get compressed in my chest.

  But then the smaller pulsations started, my breath returned to me, and I cried out his name, burying my face in his neck because tears not only threatened but absolutely did spill over.

  Lazarus planted deep and came with my name on his lips, his body jerking hard once then going slack above me as he rested his forehead on the mattress and tried to get control of his breathing as my overwrought body started trembling uncontrollably with aftershocks.

  I tried to hold on tight to prevent it, but Lazarus pulled against my hold and pressed up to look down at me, a small smile at his lips until he saw the tears, making his eyes go soft and melty again.

  "Sweetheart." His voice was quiet as he leaned down and kissed one of the stream of tears then shifted to claim my lips until the aftershocks subsided and the tears stopped streaming. "Told you," he said oddly and I felt my brows drawing together slightly.

  "Told me what?"

  "Slow and sweet," he said, the smile returning and it was right then, right that second, him still inside of me, his eyes looking down me and seeing only good, his smile as warm as standing in the sun after a long, cold winter- right then I knew.

  I wasn't falling.

  I had fallen.

  Deep.

  Hard.

  So far that I saw no way out.

  And even if I could, I knew down to my soul that I wouldn't want it.

  Maybe I didn't feel I deserved him.

  Maybe I never would.

  But I wasn't going to fight it, question it, look a gift horse in the mouth.

  I was going to let him in.

  Fully.

  I was going to love him.

  "Gotta let me up, sweetheart," he murmured a long minute later, pressing up so he was his full arms-length away, the cool air washing over my overheated body and racking me with a strong shiver. "I'll be back to warm you up," he promised, slipping out of me and pressing a kiss between my breasts before leaving me entirely and heading into the hall toward my bathroom.

  Alone, I scooted up the bed and under the covers, rolling onto my side facing the door, putting a hand to my heart that suddenly felt different in my chest- bigger, completely open.

  It should have been terrifying.

  But as Lazarus moved in, perfectly naked his smile warm, his shoulders the kind I knew I could lean on, a strong chest I knew I could find comfort in, hands I could hold, I didn't feel fear.

  I felt a completely unfamiliar, bone-deep kind of comfort.

  He climbed under the covers, reaching for me, resting the good side of my face against his chest, one arm slung low around my hips, holding me tight as I cocked my leg across his hips. His other hand moved up to sift through my hair.

  "No more running."

  It was a demand, but there was a painfully clear plead in it as well.

  "No more running."

  We didn't talk about Mitchell or Chris or Sunny. We didn't talk about my mom or his or our addictions. We didn't discuss his work at Hex or with The Henchmen.

  For one blissful hour- we were just two people not focusing on their flaws, but expressing interests, goals, dreams, foods, TV, music- all the little nothings that meant a whole lot of everything.

  But then the screaming ring of his cellphone jolted us out of our sweet little reverie, making Lazarus let out a deep sigh that rustled the hair on top of my hair before he gave me a squeeze and rolled me back onto my side.

  "So it begins," he said as his feet planted on the floor and he reached for his discarded pants to fish out his cell.

  "So what begins?"

  "Didn't exactly leave with permission," he explained. "Gonna have to explain myself to Reign."

  With that, he answered the phone, having a clipped conversation with whoever was on the other line, then ending with, "Yeah, we'll be there in fifteen."

  "We'll?"

  "Seriously?" His head turned over his shoulder, brow raised. "You think I'd leave you alone for a second now? You're coming with me and you're staying at the compound until I am sure it's safe for you to be anywhere else. Come on," he added, standing, reaching for his clothes. "Let's get dressed. We'll take some of this shit with us now and we can come back later or I can send some of the guys to come back and get more if you need it."

  I grumbled and slid out of the warmth of the comforters, taking the clothes he handed to me and slipping in. "I think this is plenty." It was, after all, all I planned to take with me, never to return again. It could definitely serve me for a couple days or weeks or however long until it was safe again, however he meant to go about ensuring such a thing.

  I wasn't stupid; I figured it would be with some sort of force.

  But I was going to bury my head in the sand and pretend I knew nothing.

  "Alright," he said, redressed, reaching for the suitcase and slipping the band over his shoulder so he could reach for one of the boxes as well. "You ready?"

  I reached for the last box, tucking it under one arm, and took the hand he was extending toward me, finding silent reassurance when he gave my hand a firm squeeze.

  Then, as one unit, we walked out of my old life and into my new... with an outlaw arms dealing biker and cage fighter who was literally the most giving, kind-hearted, strongest, sweetest, forgiving person I had ever met.

  And he thought I was worth his time.

  I was pretty sure there was no better feeling in the world.

  THIRTEEN

  Lazarus


  They were back.

  And Reign wanted to speak to me.

  That was essentially all that Edison informed me of, telling me that Lo, Janie, and Alex had hung back with the SUV to follow us home. Which was why we could bring her shit.

  We walked out into the cold, across the lot and onto the street where the women were waiting outside the car- one seemingly innocuous unit that only a select few insiders knew were actually some of the fiercest women in the state.

  Lo's face hardened slightly, taking in the damage to Bethany's face. Alex's eyes flashed. But it was always Janie you could count on to speak first.

  "I'm gonna get my hands on you," she informed her as she took the box from her hands, "and I am going to make sure you are trained enough for you to make sure that no one can ever do that to you again."

  She would too.

  That was the girls club.

  It didn't matter that Bethany was new, a practical stranger.

  It didn't matter that they didn't know the details of the situation.

  They would just be there for her.

  And because they all came from bad situations at some time or another, they would raise her up, build her confidence with everything from Krav Maga to shooting to fucking losing a tail.

  I had never given it much thought before, simply thinking they were a great group of badass women who kept my brothers happy, but watching Lo and Janie and Alex talk to her about how they whipped Penny into shape in a matter of weeks, I was overwhelmingly grateful they were a part of my life and could, by extension, be a part of hers.

  She had been so alone in the world, had no one to help raise her up since her mother died. And whether she would admit it aloud to me or not, it did something to her, it allowed her to believe she wasn't worthy of being raised up.

  The girls club would take that insane notion and completely wipe it from her person in a way I wasn't sure even I could accomplish, no matter how I tried.

  After all, when enough people started telling you you were good enough, you would eventually start to believe it yourself.

  She was going to be a self-assured 'badass bitch' in no fucking time if they had anything to say about it. Which they would. Because they were a bunch of loudmouths.

  "Alright," Lo said, slamming the trunk door. "We will meet you back at the compound to drop this stuff off and bring our men home with us."

  With that, they filed in, peeled off, and left us to walk to my bike and climb on.

  "Is it weird that the tiny little slip of a woman kind of intimidates me more than her husband?" she asked as she threw a leg over the bike, making me let out an appreciative laugh.

  "I think that is just as it should be," I said, turning the bike over and driving off.

  I wasn't worried per say about Reign. No, our club was not a democracy, but that didn't mean we didn't have free will. From the stories I heard, back when they were all falling in love, Cash and Wolf went off on their own to handle some big bads themselves. Was Reign maybe happy with those decisions? No. But had he understood the necessity of it? Sure.

  Granted, Cash and Wolf were his brother and oldest friend and I was just some lowly probate, but I was pretty sure the same rules would apply.

  Or maybe I was out on my ass.

  Either way.

  The girls were already inside when we got there, leaving me to take Bethany's hand in mine, giving it a squeeze, sensing the hesitation in her every step, like maybe she was picking up on the fact that I was not fully at ease either.

  We walked into the usual loud, but contained wildness of the clubhouse. Reign, Cash, Wolf, Duke, Repo, and Renny were all by the bar, sharing drinks, looking road-weary and ready to go home and spend the night with their women.

  Edison, Pagan, Cyrus, and Reeve were all in the sitting area, also sharing some beers, just bullshitting. I could hear the women in the kitchen, Alex and Janie insisting that Lo was making the coffee 'too weak' and Lo, tone exasperated insisting that not everyone 'likes their coffee the consistency of toxic sludge'.

  At the sound of the door closing though, all eyes in the common room fell on us. Sensing the heaviness in their gazes, Bethany moved to take a step in retreat, but was held in place by my hand.

  It was Edison, not surprisingly, who moved first.

  Every inch of his body was tightly coiled, his dark eyes unfathomable. Anyone who knew Edison knew he hated one thing in life- men raising their hands to women. If there was history there that made him that way, none of us knew. But he got his kicks beating the shit out of pimps who roughed up their working girls or assholes in bars who got too rough with their girlfriends.

  It was his trigger.

  And the finger on it was set to hair.

  Beside me, likely feeling the sparking energy coming off a man who was outwardly contained, Bethany stiffened and lowered her face when he moved in in front of us.

  His hand reached out, snagging her chin and angling it up, turning it to the side slightly so he could get a better look. He released her when she lifted her chin slightly, obviously deciding to not be embarrassed over something that wasn't her fault. His finger traced down her nose and dropped before his gaze shifted toward me.

  "I'm in."

  I didn't need to ask.

  I knew exactly what he meant.

  And I was happy for the backup.

  "Come on, angel." Cyrus was the next to speak up, reaching down for Bethany's free hand and pulling her slightly. "Let's go settle you in and let these guys grunt at each other and beat their chests in private."

  Bethany's eyes went to me, eyes a little worried. Likely, for me. But a smile pulled at her lips as Cyrus let out a whining "come onnnn" and dragged her toward the hall.

  My breath exhaled out of my nose, making my chest feel somehow heavier as I turned to the bar. It felt like facing the firing squad- every last one of them unreadable, seasoned in dark and ugly, unflinching.

  It was Pagan who broke the tense silence.

  "Are you guys just going to keep making googly eyes at one another all night or is someone going to fucking say something?"

  To that, Reign's lips twitched slightly, obviously being a fan of Pagan's brand of fearless outspokenness.

  "You walked out of a run with the Polish who we're on shaky ground with as is." His tone, as it often was, was matter-of-fact.

  I was vaguely aware of Lo, Janie, and Alex walking in, steaming cups of coffee in their hands, watching the interaction like a movie.

  "I did," I agreed, jut as matter-of-fact. That was the case.

  "We heard both Edison and Pagan talked you into leaving," Cash cut in.

  "I understand the rules here."

  "Those rules would be?" Repo asked. From experience, I knew he was the hardest to please of all my higher-ups. His ideas of loyalty and tradition were absolute and unbending. While Renny might have been a button-pusher and dirt-digger who made everyone else nervous, I had nothing to hide and didn't give a fuck what he found out about me. Repo was who was more likely to make me sweat. He was a favorite of Reign's and was often the one in charge of probates.

  "Brotherhood before everything."

  "I'm sure you're aware that rule has been bent many times," Repo said, nodding. "Even by me."

  He and Maze had been a forbidden thing- the order passed down from Reign. But Repo hadn't been able to follow that one.

  "We get that shit comes up in life," Reign cut in. "Ghosts come back to haunt the present or some asshole steps on your shoe or, as is most common with this mother fucking club it seems, women come around with their own special brand of trouble. When that goes down, it's easy to forget that they are the reason for the brotherhood. It's not just about business. It's about family. I'm not mad because you needed to come back here and check on your girl. But I'm not happy that you didn't realize that you should have come to me about it. Not for permission, but fucking backup."

  "I didn't realize when I left that she had gotten herself into trouble,"
I defended. "And it wasn't my place to let you in on her personal struggles. All due respect, Reign, but you can't expect me to betray her so I can be loyal to you."

  "Aw, someone write that one down." Lo, the hopeless romantic she was, was all swoony-voiced. "Seriously. We need to tell Beth that one sometime."

  Reign snorted at that, but he was smiling.

  "I get that. And now that you know she's got trouble?" he prompted.

  "Now I need to ask her if I can let you in on what she's been through."

  "I'm an addict," Bethany's unmistakable voice broke a silence after my words, making me jump. Looking over, I found her standing in the hallway, eyes big, lips trembling, hands curled into fists.

  I knew how hard those words were. Especially the first time. They burned like battery acid on the tongue. I couldn't imagine how it felt to stand there in front of a room of people you barely knew, but knew you would have to face daily, whose respect you wanted, and find those words.

  "She's not an easy woman to distract," Cyrus said from behind her shoulder, raking a hand down his beard. "And I'm charming as fuck," he added with a smirk.

  "Lazarus found me in one of my more glorious moments, OD'ing on the pavement beside Chaz's bar. He took me back to his place and he helped me withdraw. He thought I was relapsing. That's why he came back."

  Reign nodded at that. And, though you might not expect it from his particular kind of dark and dangerous and detached, he obviously picked up on her distress because the next words out of her mouth were those of comfort. "Know that wasn't easy, babe," he said with a nod, "but I appreciate it. And you can stop shaking because no one here is fucking judging you for it." His light green eyes turned to me. "But she obviously wasn't relapsing."

  "She worked at a pill mill," I went on, holding an arm out and she almost ran to me, hitting me bodily and exhaling a shaky breath. "Father and two sons- one to get her comfortable using pain pills, then one to help her rehab but not actually since he does some shit to make it worse then sends her to the dad."