Wolf (The Henchmen MC #3)

by Jessica Gadziala

  "Thanks. Basements and me... not a good combination," I shared, surprising myself. She had that quality though, a warmth, almost maternal, that made you want to open up to her.

  She gave me a wobbly smile. "When V had me," she started, recounting the months she spent with a local skin trader who used her as a pawn to try to get her father to let V use his shipping containers to bring in women, "the basement was where all the beatings and... everything took place. It took me a long time to be okay with basements too. Anyway," she said, her tone getting cheery again, "Reign and I are two doors that way," she pointed. "Cash usually doesn't stay here anymore. He and Lo go to his place. But if you need anything, just ask."

  "Thanks Summer," I said and watched as she moved into the hall. She turned away, then back, looking like she was fighting whether or not to say something. "Just say it."

  "I'm glad he's dead," she said, shrugging. "And I'm glad you came to me for help. I know it ended up not really being much help, but still. Everyone always turns to the men. It's nice to be thought of."

  "We girls got to stick together," I said with a tight smile.

  "That's for damn sure. We're so outnumbered," she said, closing the door and making her way back to, I imagined, her man.

  I grabbed my laptop and made my way toward the bed, the sheets smelling like laundry detergent, not autumn like Wolf, and I sighed at myself for noticing.

  I could think about Wolf later.

  I had work to do.

  Like find out who the hell Marco, the new blood, really was.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Janie

  I woke up screaming.

  Five seconds later, pushing my hair out of my face and adjusting to the only mildly familiar surroundings, there was slamming on my door. My heart flew up into my throat until Repo's smooth voice called through the door.

  "Janie open up!"

  I sighed, climbing out of bed in one of Wolf's tees that was discarded on the sink in the bathroom and, unlike his bed, still smelled like him. I unlocked the door and pulled it open. "It's..." I started, but found myself hauled up against his bare chest, one of his arms around my hips, the other at the back of my head.

  "Jesus Christ. You scared the fuck out of me," he admitted, rawness in his voice as I heard other voices in the hall. "Fuck off, she's fine," he called to them, pushing me backward into the bedroom and slamming the door. He let me go and I sank numbly onto the foot of the bed, feeling both a little disoriented and thrown off by his unexpected reaction. It wasn't that I thought Repo was a jackass (okay maybe I did a little) but I didn't think he was the kind of guy to worry and offer hugs. "Bad dreams," he half-asked, half-declared as he leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest.

  It was the first time I got a good look at him without his shirt. He had a huge chest plate that he was working on getting colored-in. It was American traditional style, two pistols crossing butts, facing downward surrounded by roses and vines with two sets of fishnet-clad women's legs poking out of it. Directly above the giant piece, the word "Henchman" crossed him shoulder-to-shoulder in a bold, black font.

  "Wow. That's some good work. Did you go to Paine?" I asked, thinking of the extremely hot light-skinned black guy who was, next to Shooter and Cash, the most charming guy I'd ever met.

  "Nah. Hunter Mallick."

  "Planning on branching out?" I asked, gesturing toward his bare arms and torso.

  "Eventually. So stop changing the topic, Jstorm. Bad dreams?"

  "I can't imagine how they're any of your business," I countered, my head turning to the side slightly.

  "Just curious, honey. I don't sleep either. Was just seeing if I had a non-sleeping buddy 'round these parts. These fucks all pass out around three, leaving me to sit awake by myself until they crawl back out of their rooms around ten in the morning."

  "Bad dreams too?" I asked, finding myself genuinely curious. So far, aside from knowing he worked on cars and liked pulling open doors, was loyal, and in no way shy about calling people on their bullshit... I knew nothing about him.

  "I can't imagine how they're any of your business," he threw my own words back at me with a smirk.

  "Fair enough," I said, nodding. "I need coffee."

  "It's brewing," he said, turning to the door and giving me a quick view of another outlined piece covering his whole back, something with a snake and words that weren't filled in yet. "I'll grab a shirt, you grab pants, and I'll meet you in the kitchen. I make a mean breakfast scramble," he added and my empty stomach suddenly clenched painfully.

  Alright. So he was loyal, a bit of a jackass, a worrier and hugger, into cars and tats, couldn't sleep because of bad dreams, lived on caffeine, and could cook? Oh yeah, Repo and I were gonna make good friends.

  I threw on pants and shoes, tamed my hair, brushed my teeth, and made my way quietly toward the kitchen. It was a small and square room with reasonably white tile, white cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. There was a window overlooking the backyard over the sink and a small gray folding table with two chairs against the wall. Nothing fancy. But then again, it was all men that lived there. Nothing about a biker screamed 'we should put curtains on those windows and some decorative hand towels would really spruce up the joint!'.

  "Cup by the machine," Repo said, back to me, now wearing a plain white tee along with the black sweats, standing near the stove and whipping eggs in a bowl.

  I walked over to the machine and poured a cup, hauling myself up onto the counter and watched as he chopped peppers, onions, spinach, and mushrooms and mixed them into the eggs. "So you cook," I observed.

  He gave me a smirk, looking over at me. "And you don't."

  "Did he tell you that!" I yelped, starting to get annoyed but then getting crushed with a wave of sadness.

  He caught the look, letting the smirk fall. "So how is Janie's Reign of Terror going?"

  I fought the smile when I realized he used the same name that I made up in my head. "So... Marco isn't just a cop. I mean he is a cop. He went to the academy and everything. But he's something else too."

  "And that is?" Repo prompted, pouring the contents of the bowl into the pan and pushing it around as it sizzled.

  "He's an Abruzzo."

  "The mob?" Repo stiffened, turning toward me fully.

  I pressed my lips together.

  See... we already had our mob in the area. We had the Grassis in Navesink Bank who had a restaurant and ran the docks, most especially the black market shit that came through the docks. And then there were the De Lucas in New York who had their hands in everything as well as a bar that they named Lam. Yeah, as in 'on the lam'. The head of the family, Vin, had a serious 'fuck you' attitude toward authority.

  But if a third family was on the rise...

  "Aren't they supposed to be out in fucking Long Island?"

  "Guess they are... branching out?"

  "Do you think Wolf is personal? That they are after our gun trade?"

  "Mix that food. I'm not picky, but I prefer it wasn't burnt," I said and he turned to mix. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't know enough about the Abruzzo family. I don't think anyone does. They are small. I think they ran girls out in Long Island. Prostitutes, not skin trade."

  "But that's the Third Street gang's gig around here. Why not target them?"

  "Repo... I have no fucking idea. All I know is Marco, whenever he recovers from the beating he took last night, is still a wild card. The best I can do is expose his link to the Abruzzo family. He changed his name like ten years back, way before he joined the academy. But they might give him the benefit of the doubt. You can't help what family you're born into."

  "Know what I'd like?" Repo asked, turning off the heat under the pan and going to the fridge to grab a bag of grated mozzerella cheese to pour over the scramble.

  "What?"

  "To have one year, hell one... month that everything isn't a giant clusterfuck."

 
I felt myself smile as he plated the food and held mine out toward me. "You chose the wrong profession if you wanted a tame life, Repo."

  He snorted, grabbing forks, then lifting himself up on the counter a few feet from me. "So what now?"

  "Now I forward that info on his new blood to Collings. Let him dig around, report it, whatever. I'm sure the whole force is feeling the heat. Besides, him getting his ass handed to him might point them toward thinking it was some mob turf bullshit. Then we wait and see if Collings lost the boot evidence."

  "I refuse to believe you'll sit on your hands until maybe something happens."

  He was right. I wasn't that kind of girl.

  "I might be making a visit to the Grassis today. See if I can get a meeting with the old man or Luca or Matteo."

  "Always good to get that ball rolling. If they don't already know about the Abruzzos moving in, they'll appreciate the intel. They'll be worried about their control of the docks."

  We fell into sporadic conversation, just easing the silence of the early morning as we ate and downed too much coffee. He was right, his breakfast scramble was amazing. And after my second helping, I told him so.

  Sometime around seven, Reign rolled in looking wide awake with a drowsy looking Summer in toe. At my questioning look, she made a growling sound, rolling her eyes at Reign's back. "He barely needs any sleep. It's obnoxious," she declared.

  "Told you to sleep in, babe," he shrugged, pouring two cups of coffee, one black and one with milk, sugar, and some caramel syrup he pulled out of a cabinet. He handed Summer the fancy coffee and drank his. "So I called the station and talked to a very frazzled-sounding Detective Collings," Reign said with a smile, picking at the food on my plate with his fingers until I pushed it at him.

  "And?"

  "And they're moving Wolf to county today. They had a warrant they carried out at Wolf's last night. Doubt they found anything."

  "There was nothing to find," I assured him.

  "If he gets settled in, we should be able to go visit him in three days. That's the next visiting day."

  I felt my heart fall at that. I couldn't face him in a jail. I couldn't stomach seeing him in orange and chains. I had no worries for his safety in there because, well, he could crush heads with his pinkie fingers. But the idea of talking to him through a glass? Yeah, no. That would not stand.

  "I have to go," I declared, jumping to my feet and running up the stairs to throw on something appropriate before running back down stairs to get in my car.

  The Grassi family owned the docks as well as the upscale seafood restaurant that overlooked them. Famiglia was a raised dark blue building with an enormous wrap around deck sitting on stilts right out of the water. I walked toward the side staircase and climbed, noting the three late-model luxury cars parked outside. The restaurant may have been closed, but the family was in.

  "Closed," the huge specimen to muscle-bound male perfection wrapped in a nice black suit that was Famiglia's version of a security guard told me.

  "Janie from Hailstorm. I need to talk to the Grassis about the Abruzzos being in town."

  I got the tiniest of brow lifts at that and he nodded and moved inside.

  And, well, I wasn't waiting for an invitation.

  I grabbed the door and let myself inside, seeing the security guard shake his head as he turned away from the table where the Grassi family was sitting.

  Now, I liked me the rough and tough kinda guys, the frayed edges and tattoos and beards. I liked guys who wore their street cred on their sleeves. But if that wasn't my type, I'd be brought to my knees by the Grassi men.

  Antony was the had of the family, a man past middle age with gray streaking his black hair but with a strong face, deep, smart eyes, and the perfect skin tone that Italian men seemed to possess even in the depths of winter.

  His oldest son, Luca, was well over six feet with a swimmer's type of body clad in an expensive gray suit, his black hair pushed back, his dark eyes framed with lashes that any woman would die for.

  Matteo looked a lot like his brother, the same chiseled face, straight nose, dark eyes and slim but strong build. Matteo wore dark wash jeans with a thick-knit camel-colored sweater. He kept his hair long, curling down almost to his shoulders.

  "I don't remember the last time we had the pleasure of a visit from someone at Hailstorm," Antony said, waving away the security guard as they all stood. Luca actually buttoned his coat then moved around the table to pull out a chair for me.

  "I wish I could say this is a social call," I said, giving Luca what I could only call an awkward smile, unaccustomed to old-fashioned manners like pulling out chairs. He moved around the table, unbuttoned his coat, then sat back down.

  "My doorman did say something about the Abruzzos being in town," Antony went on, going for casual, but I could hear a sharpness in his tone.

  "Long story short, my man is locked up..."

  "For a crime he didn't commit?" Matteo asked, mocking smile in place.

  "Oh he committed it alright, but that is besides the point. You guys know just as well as I do that that never usually has any bearing. The only reason he is locked up right now is because Collings has himself a new partner."

  "Marco," Luca agreed, nodding his head like they had already looked into it.

  "I see you guys dug about as deep as the rest of us did initially. Last night, I dug deeper. His last name before he changed it? Abruzzo. And, sure, while it is possible he left the family behind and started a new life..."

  "It's unlikely," Antony said with authority. You were in the family, you were in for life. Case closed.

  "Exactly."

  "And you're sharing this because..." Luca asked, trying to find my angle.

  Hell, I wasn't even sure what my angle was.

  "Just thought you should know. Maybe you want to have a talk with him. If you do," I said, standing, and I'll be damned if all three men didn't stand as well, "you can find him in room one-fourteen at Navesink General."

  To that, I got three very similar white-toothed smiles.

  "Let me understand this, Janie darling," Antony said, not ready to dismiss me. "You blame Marco for Wolf's arrest. You have had him beat. And now you come to us to involve us in your situation. What is your game plan here?"

  "Honestly?" I said, feeling my shoulders shrug and my voice take on a hint of desperation. "I don't know. At this point, I'm scrambling to do anything I can. That news story last night about the rape kits? That was me. I uncovered them and dropped them on Collings' desk with a warning. I outsourced to kick Marcus' ass. I looked into his family. I'm doing whatever idea pops into my head. I have no real plan. At this point, I'm just creating chaos. And I... I have no fucking idea if anything I am doing is even making any kind of difference and I'm just so..." I trailed off on a hopeless little hand gesture, shaking my head.

  "Matteo, I think it is time to offer this lady a drink," Antony supplied. "Luca and I have an appointment with a man in the hospital," Antony winked at me, touching my shoulder as he passed.

  "What's your poison? Usually it's only right to give a beautiful woman a nice glass of wine, but it sounds like you're having a stiff two fingers of whiskey kind of day."

  I snorted, shaking my head. "Or a whole bottle. Sure, whiskey is fine," I said, following him toward the bar.

  Matteo ordered us each a drink and took a seat next to me, turning on the stool to face me. "I understand what you're trying to do here, Janie. But you are going to lose it if you don't slow down."

  "What other choice is there? Let him sit in jail endlessly while I twiddle my thumbs?"

  "You've done more in twenty-four hours than anyone, even Wolf, could expect from you. Have you even slept?"

  I got an hour, if that counted. "I don't sleep. So I might as well work on this. Reign is on the lawyer angle, but I am still counting on this blowing over before it goes that far."

  "You realize the repercussions of leaking
those rape kits, right? IA will be all over NBPD. No one will get away with anything."

  "Honestly, Matteo," I said, putting down my empty glass and standing. He did as well, of course. The freak. "I don't give a fuck what happens to anyone else if I can get Wolf out of this. Thanks for the drink."

  "You love him," his voice called after me, making me stop dead.

  Love.

  I loved him?

  Even as I tried to deny it to myself, I knew there was no way to push it away once it was unearthed. Somehow, someway, sometime along the way, he had done something to my cold, shriveled little heart. That was why I was working so hard, keeping myself too occupied to think about why I needed to sleep in something that smelled like him, why it made my blood boil to be around the club whores, why I was willing to threaten an honest cop to get him to do something he had avoided all his career- erase evidence.

  All of that so I didn't realize what the seizing feeling in my chest, the way breathing was hard when I thought of him, the way I felt very close to tears most of the day, was.

  I loved him.

  Crap.

  I turned back, lifting my chin. "Yeah. And some day, Matteo, you'll love someone like I love him and you'll understand why I have to do what I have to do."

  With that, I walked out of Famiglia and went back to my car.

  --

  I walked into The Henchmen compound half an hour later, slamming the door closed, and seeing the common area was cleared of all the bikers from the night before. All that was left was Reign, Summer, Cash, Repo, and... Lo.

  All eyes turned to me and, for reasons I don't understand in the least, I blurted it out.

  "I love Wolf."

  "No shit, babe," Reign said, rolling his eyes.

  "Of course you do, honey," Summer said, squeezing Reign's knee like she was relaying some silent message.

  "He's a little old for you, kid," Cash winked, letting his arm fall from Lo's shoulders as she moved to stand.