I changed my name.
I completely got rid of the ties to my past.
Pretty soon, the money piled enough to get me an actual residence, just an apartment, but at least it was a pay-by-the-month instead of pay-by-the-night kind of place.
It was right about then that I got a letter in the mail, it being the first time I had ever surfaced on paper.
I knew the stationary the second I pulled it out of my PO Box. Because only the Scott family invested in expensive linen-like paper with stamped calligraphy on it.
And since there was only my grandfather left, I figured it was from him.
To "Pagan" Richard Scott,
I have been looking for you for six years, since the same week you ran off. It was a quest that found renewed passion after your father passed, you being my only living descendent. But you could have been anywhere, the private investigators informed me, and there was no trace of you.
It wasn't until this week that you finally became a blip on their radar. In Navesink Bank of all places. Only half an hour away.
I understand your need for your own freedom. I respect your determination to make it on your own. I think your father, for all his protestation to the contrary, admired it as well.
By all accounts, you have become a headstrong, stubborn man, and as such, I don't expect a warm family reunion.
But I am writing to tell you that your trust did fall into your hands at twenty-one. I have enclosed the account details for your modest sum that you are free to do with as you please.
With regards,
Richard Scott, Sr.
That 'modest sum' he wrote of? It was five-million dollars. And, to him, that truly was a modest amount of money. It was the equivalent to a normal grandparent giving you five-hundred bucks for your high school graduation.
But it was more money than I had ever known.
And I was tempted. I was so tempted to take it all, to figure out a way to invest it, maybe ask Ward for his advice since he was living high on the hog.
But, in the end, all I did was take the money out for my beach house, figuring they owed me a real home for the first time in my life.
The rest just sat there.
Until I took out the money for Kennedy.
Fact of the matter was, I had been born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I had never even understood the concept of hunger. Even leaving all that behind, things just... fell into place for me. I made a very nice living between Hex and The Henchmen, way more than I needed which was why I felt fine about blowing it on off-roading toys that I knew I was going to crash and sports cars that were completely overpriced.
And then there was this woman, this fucking amazing, beautiful, resilient woman, who had been fed nothing but shit, had met with nothing but resistance to her trying to better her life.
It came down to the fact that... she fucking deserved a goddamn leg-up already. That was enough reason for me to dip into that account that had sat untouched for years since I bought the beach house.
It had just been sitting there; I might as well have put it to use. Especially for a worthy cause.
Because, at the end of the day, I knew Kennedy was good for it. I knew she would take that space and make it into something fucking amazing; she would find a way to make it thrive.
Because she was still hungry.
Maybe not in the physical way, but in a very soul-deep kind of way. She was hungry to prove herself, to prove to everyone else who had ever doubted her, who had refused to invest in her, that she was worth it. That she could rise up from the ashes of her past and fucking soar.
At the end of my story, her lips started twitching, watching me with eyes that somehow didn't see me any differently even though the image of the rough and dirty biker and cage fighter had to have been marred slightly by learning I got a goddamn Lambo for my sixteenth birthday.
"So, what does the inside of a Rolls Royce smell like?"
"Money," I said with a smirk. "It smells like fucking money."
She smiled at that, reaching out to hook a finger into my belt hoop, the first time since I walked in that she even got close to touching me.
"You really should have talked to me about this before you did this."
"Would you have fucking let me do it if I had?"
Her lips curved up. "That'd be a no."
"Which is why I had to do it behind your fucking back. You're too goddamn stubborn."
"You're the stubborn one."
"Says the woman arguing over who is the most stubborn," I said with a smirk as I slid my hands over her hips to fold across her lower back, pulling the bottom half of her body against mine.
Her hands rose to press into my chest as her head ducked for a minute, trying to get her thoughts together, trying to put a mask on. It wouldn't work, of course, she wore every goddamn emotion on her face. But I understood the need for self-preservation in the face of something that brought out a lot in you. Her eyes rose and while she certainly tried not to seem emotional, it was in her big eyes, in the depth of her voice. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," I said, leaning in to take her lips for a moment, feeling her melt into me. "Oh, there is one stipulation. It is actually in the contract too. I made it all legally binding and shit."
To that, her brows drew together as I pushed away, flipping through the paperwork, and pointing to the passage.
"Pagan!" she hissed, eyes bugging out. "You can't use that word in official documents!"
"Yeah, the girl at the office turned bright red when I added the 'no pussy-colored walls' clause."
"Well what color do you suggest then?"
"Green!" Benny declared through the closed front door, making it clear he had been eavesdropping for a good long while. I expected nothing less. You could see him practically bouncing out front the door. Part of it was because it was a good thing for him that business was expanding, sure. But I was inclined to think a bigger chunk of it had to do with the fact that he just loved Kennedy, had been with her through the ups and downs, tried his best to take care of her. He wanted her to have a break from all the stress as well.
"Or whatever color you want that doesn't look like a vagina," I told her, maybe a bit too charmed when her cheeks went pink. I could say pussy all day to her, but you bring out the technical word and she's looking like a school girl. "Take a trip to Home Depot and look at some swatches. Pick out what you want, and the guys will have it on the walls within the next week."
"It really doesn't feel right that they are being forced into all this work for me."
Kennedy was the kind of girl to do shit herself. From what she said, she had been the one to skim the walls, and bolt the hair cutting chairs to the floor, and any number of other things that needed to be done. Though that was likely to save money, I found I liked her willingness to get her hands dirty.
There was a lot beneath the surface. You took one look at her and all you'd really see was the big blue eyes, the perfect blonde hair, the plump lips, and the goddamn ideal body. On top of that, she dressed nice- lots of dresses and heels.
It was easy to think that's all she was.
But what she was was smart, and funny, and determined, and sweet, and a good friend, a great employer, someone who could take being the butt of a joke as she often was at the compound thanks mostly to Roderick who apparently came from a family with five, yes five, sisters so he was used to doing that big brother thing.
She was that shit that they talked about, that phrase that was thrown around way too easily on chicks that didn't quite live up to it.
She was the whole package.
And I didn't know what she was fucking smoking to make her think she should wrap all that up and offer it to me like Christmas morning, to think I was in any way deserving of it.
I wasn't the kind of man who was familiar with insecurity. But that being said, I had never been in the position to let a woman's possible opinion of me change the way I felt about myself.
Kenned
y, as it turned out, was a lot of firsts for me.
She was the first woman I spent more than one night with, the first woman I took back to my house, the first woman who ever cooked for me, the first I learned the whole life story of, the first woman I had ever fucking made love to, and the first whose opinion mattered.
It should have been something that freaked me out, that terrified me. A man like me, so used to living life exactly how I wanted, without having to answer to anyone, it shouldn't have been an easy transition.
But in trading in a tiny bit of that freedom, I got, in exchange, Kennedy.
Seemed like a fair fucking trade-off if you asked me.
What did that mean long-term? Honestly, fuck if I knew. All I knew was, I liked having her around. I liked waking up with her soft body curled against mine. And, let's face it, her tit in my hand. Because that was how we slept every damn night. I liked hearing her laugh, even when I was in the other room and it was Cy or Roderick or Cash getting that reaction out of her. I liked listening to her tell stories about being a tomboy before she found makeup and heels. I liked how she got along with my brothers. I liked listening to her on the phone some nights bullshitting with Benny or his boyfriend.
And I think it went without saying, that I liked it a fuckuva lot being inside her. In fact, I liked it enough that four days before, I dragged her with me to the clinic to get tests run. It had been too long for the both of us and while she was on the Pill, we wanted to make sure shit was in the clear before we took that step.
The night before was the first time we ditched the condoms, the first time I had ever ditched a condom, and got to be in her with nothing between us.
It was maybe the first time in my life that sex seemed like more than just sex.
So, in my mind, that shit was all pointing to something serious. While I was nowhere near ready to start saying the love or commitment words, I was committed.
I was invested in giving it a shot.
"Alright, alright, get your lovey-dovey shit out of the way. Kenny and I have a date at the Home Depot. Or as I like to call it, Men R Us. Don't give me that look," he said to Kennedy. "You know my man and I have a strict look all you want, get the engine revved up, and bring it on home for the ride agreement. So go on, kiss her, grab her tit. Get it over with."
I chuckled at that, taking her lips in mine until she swayed against me.
"Go get your non-pussy color. The guys and I have a lot of work to do. We can take this to a notary tomorrow."
"Yes, yes, cute and all that. Thank you and whatnot. Now go." Benny was impatient to have her alone, to talk, to gush about shit.
I smiled, releasing Kennedy, and leaving them to celebrate.
Though the real celebration would come much later.
In bed.
Where she showed me her gratitude. Naked.
Yeah, fair fucking trade.
SEVENTEEN
Kennedy
"Are we being invaded?" Benny asked, freezing, staring out the door.
We had had a busy morning, both of us booked from opening until about twenty minutes before, and we were both hoping to give our poor arms a small break before we had to have our early evening clients. But there was nothing you could do about walk-ins. They came and we had to take them.
Being that we were expanding, we needed to still be pretty careful with money. True, I wouldn't have rent next month thanks to being an actual bonafide real estate owner, but supplies cost a lot of money for a salon if you wanted to make sure you made the correct purchase the first time so you wouldn't have to replace anything six months down the line.
After way too much champagne on a weeknight, Benny springing for an expensive bottle, and both of us drinking ourselves giddy, we had set to work on the actual plans.
Because while The Henchmen were making things safe and usable, we still had a lot we needed to do.
We needed a real waiting area, with comfortable seating, a single serve coffee machine, and a coffee table. We needed a computer that didn't come straight out of 2000. We needed two more haircutting stations, one more nail station, and two more pedicure stations.
Then, once we were taken on a walk-through of the construction area, with actual construction hats on because Reeve had insisted, we learned that the other side of the building had another bathroom, storage space, and another huge back room that was likely meant to be a break room, but we decided could be cut in half so we had a nice break room, but also a private room where we could maybe, once the cash flow was healthy, hire an esthetician to do waxing. It would be a pretty full-service salon which wasn't available anywhere else in Navesink Bank. You would normally have to go to one spot for your hair, another for your nails, and a third to get a wax. Being able to offer all three would put us leaps and bounds above the competition.
The sky was truly the limit for me/us for the first time maybe ever.
Thanks, almost entirely, to Pagan.
After I had shopped at Home Depot with Benny, then had too much champagne, Pagan had brought me back to the compound where we had gone at it for hours until both our bodies were too exhausted for another round.
He had passed out and I had snuck off into the bathroom, curling up in a warm bath, unable to hold it in anymore, and having a good, long, cry. Not a sad one, one that was full of a relief like I had never known, gratitude, and a happiness that felt like it was bursting out of my pores.
"Ugh, it kind of seems like it," I said, pushing aside my salad and rolling my neck.
There outside our front doors and windows was a huge crowd of women. I mean, there were at least ten of them. What would even possess them to all try to come to my little salon all at once? I was pretty sure it was obvious from the outside that we wouldn't be able to handle them all at once. But maybe they were okay with taking turns, in which case, there was a nice chunk of money to be made from a group that big.
So I pushed my frustration and exhaustion aside and gave Benny a shrug. "Money, money, money..."
"Mon-eeee," Benny sang back.
"Wait," I said, pausing. "Is that Maze?" I asked, the distinctive purple catching my eye as she whipped her hair somewhere in the front of the group by the street.
"Looks like it. That's my handiwork right there," Benny said proudly, puffing up a bit.
"Wait," I said, giving the group another look. "If that is Maze, then that means that they are the girls club."
"What the hell is the girls club?"
"They are all the old ladies to the bikers, plus a few of the women who belong to the friends of The Henchmen."
"Should we be worried?" Benny asked, looking confused.
"I have no idea."
It was true, I didn't.
Because while I had been at the compound pretty regularly since I started getting serious with Pagan, the wives generally seemed to stay at their respective houses with their kids, leaving the compound to mostly the slightly older puppies and the brand spanking new ones.
The only one of them I had ever really had a conversation with was Bethany, who was Laz's girl. And that was because Laz had joined the MC around the same time as Cyrus, Reeve, Edison, and Pagan, so he had a tight bond with them.
I had to admit, it was nice to have another girl around.
There were so many men, and there were only so many dirty jokes and messes one could clean up before you started really craving the company of a fellow female.
Bethany was pretty laid-back, down-to-earth, and sweet. She was also the only person who could truly understand how I felt about Pagan's fights at Hex because Laz had been fighting there for almost as long, though he spent most of his time as a guard.
Just as I thought her name, I saw her turn, her short, dark hair catching the light. With them was one redhead, three blondes, Maze with her purple, then four brunettes.
"Take a deep breath," Benny said, coming up behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. "It's like... meeting the parents. Times five. No biggie."
&n
bsp; Then, just as the (dis)comfort of that sank in, Maze reached for the door, and they were filing in.
"You couldn't avoid it forever," Bethany said with an understanding smile. "Once they realized Pagan was the kind of serious that said he was willing to drop damn near a million dollars on you, they all got to talking, which led to them deciding to ambush you so you couldn't run away."
"I, ah, I wouldn't have run away!" I insisted. It was a lie. Faced with ten women who I knew to be various levels of badass, yeah, I was pretty sure I was chickenshit enough to run away.
Don't ask me why that was my reaction since I had faced up ten of the actual Henchmen without feeling that way, but it was what my instincts were telling me to do.
"You still get to keep the token redhead title," one of the brunettes said, tall and lean, all legs with hair that brushed her shoulders, dark eyes, and perfect porcelain skin. She was speaking to the, of course, redhead, who I knew was Reign's woman. Summer.
"That's Alex," Bethany offered. "Let's get this part out of the way. Next to Alex is Janie AKA Jstorm, she is a bomb expert, hacker, and all-around badass." She looked like one too with her long black hair, colorful tattoos, and keen light eyes. "Beside her is Summer who was mentioned already. She likes guns. Too much, if you ask Reign. Next to her, we have Mina who is a profiler up at Hailstorm.Then there is Penny who is just a normal girl like you and me. As is Amelia, who is a drug counselor, but she is married to a sniper. And Elsie who does some job that makes her rake it in. She is married to Paine who is a tattoo artist and ex-gang leader. Then, ah, where am I..."
"That'd be me," one of the blondes piped in. She was gorgeous, a bit older than the others, but tall, lean, and with an epic rack. "I'm Lo. Cash has told me a lot about you. Including how that Roderick guy got you to wear Pagan's name on your back."
"That was pretty slick, I have to admit," Janie piped in, smiling. "He knew he wouldn't have gotten away with that with anyone else."
Pagan (The Henchmen MC Book 8) Page 19
