Lazarus (The Henchmen MC Book 7)

by Jessica Gadziala

  I smiled as she slid her other foot onto my lap, shamelessly asking for more as I worked the tension out of one foot before moving to the other.

  On the bed, her eyes were closed, one hand on her belly, the other above her head and grabbing the pillow.

  Once I finished with the second foot, I leaned down and planted a kiss on the inside of her ankle, making her leg jerk at the unexpected contact as I kept moving upward, up her calf, the side of her knee, pushing up the material of her skirt a couple inches to expose more of her soft inner thighs- her legs falling open in invitation. When I looked up, her eyes were on me- heavy-lidded, her lips parted, her fingers digging into the sheet in anticipation.

  Okay. So maybe I could wait for sex, but that didn't mean I couldn't get a little taste, right?

  I was halfway up her inner thigh, her breath coming out frantic and uneven as one hand landed on the back of my neck, holding me to her as my tongue traced the edge of her panties where it met her innermost thigh.

  "Laz!" Reign's voice called suddenly, making Bethany's entire body jerk violently as she jumped up on the bed, no doubt worried that Reign, like the girls, was the bursting in type.

  Annoyed, I rested my face against her inner thigh. "What?" I barked.

  "You got company," he called and I could hear him walking away.

  Company?

  I had company?

  Pretty much everyone I knew was already in the fucking compound. Who the hell could be visiting?

  "You have to go," Bethany said, her fingers slipping into my hair and stroking through it for a long moment.

  "Unfortunately," I agreed, lifting up slightly to plant a kiss where my face had been resting. "But this isn't over," I added, giving her a smile as I pushed up and hopped off the end of the bed and made my way toward the door. "But take some Advil and get some sleep," I added. "The fridge is stocked with drinks if you're thirsty too."

  With that, I went into the hall and leaned against the closed door for a second, trying to get control of the racing desire.

  "Alright, who the hell is..." I started, moving into the doorway to find everyone around- drinking, hanging out.

  But among all my brothers and the couple of women who had followed Cyrus, Reeve, and Edison back, there was a face that absolutely didn't belong there.

  "You don't go home to shower after a fight?" I asked as I walked up toward Pagan- covered in dry blood, all his cuts still not attended to. He had gone hard, as he always did. In fact, he usually didn't even notice how hurt he was until someone else forced him to notice it. His hands were broken open. The cut next to his eye needed to be cleaned and stitched or, more likely, glued since there was no getting Pagan inside a hospital unless a part of him was hanging off.

  "Didn't go home," he said with a devilish smirk.

  "My man," Cyrus agreed as he passed with four mixed drinks in his hands for his female guests. Cyrus, along with learning songs chicks liked to play on his guitar at the coffeeshop, also learned how to make drinks they liked to drink and general plots of the shows they liked to watch and what was going on with their favorite celebrities.

  It would be too easy to call him a slut. It was deeper than that. True, many women were all too willing to fall into his bed and he was young and single and no one with a sound mind would begrudge him that. But he genuinely just liked being around the fairer sex. Reeve claimed it was always that way. Where most guys in middle and high school tripped over interactions with girls, Cyrus had just effortlessly gotten on with them, charmed them, maybe broken a few hearts though I had no doubt it was wholly unintentional. I didn't think Cyrus ever wanted to hurt anyone- just wanted to enjoy a large percentage of the female population... for short periods of time.

  Besides, he wore his non-commitment on his sleeve. Every woman who met him knew he was up for a good time and nothing else. If they went into it wanting more, that was on them, not him.

  "How the fuck did you get undressed without at least getting half that blood off?" I asked as he walked over to the bar and poured himself whiskey.

  "Undressed," he scoffed, shaking his head. "All I needed was my cock out and her ass up. Where's that piece you had at Hex?" he asked suddenly, making me stiffen.

  "That piece would be named Bethany and she's in my room sleeping."

  "Sleeping," he repeated, face looking very much like he didn't even understand the concept.

  "Yes, sleeping," I agreed, handing Edison the bottle of vodka he was walking over for.

  "Please tell me you fucked her until she was unconscious or something and that you didn't come home from a fucking fight and go to sleep."

  I snorted at that. "Maybe if someone hadn't shown up and interrupted..."

  "Fuck man, wasn't being a cockblock. Just came to hang out. Go back and fuck your girl. I'll wait. I have say... this much whiskey to keep me company," he said, taking the bottle and completely filling his glass.

  And that, in a nutshell, was Pagan.

  Really, I hadn't spent enough time with him outside of Hex to know if there were deeper levels, but if there were, they weren't ones he showed people easily. Pagan was all blood and sweat and whiskey and fucking and fighting and whatever pursuit of dangerous or crazy he thought would be the most fun at any given time. And, being that way, he had no real order to his life. That was why he worked so well at Hex. He could fight once or twice a week and have more than enough cash to blow on jumping out of planes or from bridges or buying some new ATV he was only going to crash into a tree or ditch within an hour.

  Live fast, try not to die.

  That would be his motto.

  But if he died doing something nuts, he would be happy to go out like that.

  "Think this effectively killed the mood, man," I said, shaking my head.

  "The fuck?" he asked, moving past me toward the hall.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Sounds like you need some pointers on warming up the oven," he said, pointing at the doors as he passed them like I was ever going to tell him which room was mine. "I am happy to school you," he added, seeming to pick up on something about me when he got to my door, making him pause, smile wicked.

  "Pagan, all due respect, I'm going to need you to fuck off," I said with a small smile, knowing that while he would absolutely storm in my room and claim to Bethany that I needed lessons on how to please her, he was also as equally happy to walk away and go hang in the common room.

  "Fine. Your loss," he shrugged, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "Did you hear about Slate?" he asked as we moved to stand beside the bar again.

  "What about him?"

  "Had to be rushed in for implants," he said, shrugging off the fact that that meant he had knocked several of his teeth out in the fight. It was, for all intents and purposes, just part of the gig. Teeth got knocked out and swallowed constantly. "No one had any idea until he shook off the knockout. Poor fuck," he added, shaking his head.

  Pagan himself had four implants in his back teeth so he knew Slate would be out of commission until the posts healed. Luckily for us, Ross made bank and Ross believed in taking care of his fighters. So the five to fifteen grand the implants would cost would be covered by him. Occupational hazard and since we didn't officially work for him because he didn't officially run a fighting ring, we couldn't get health insurance.

  Ross Ward, asshole persona aside, was a decent person. Or maybe it was just true to say he was willing to invest in the care and upkeep of the people who made him the largest sums of money. If you were a pussy who went to the hospital for some bruised ribs after your first fight- he cut you off. But for old timers like me and Slate and Pagan- he went above and beyond.

  "Who the fuck you gonna fight now?" I asked, knowing most of the other regulars wanted nothing to do with Pagan. Hell, Ross couldn't pay me enough for that kinda fight.

  "He's looking for new people. Having an open house so he can get some new blood. Hopefully he gets some crazy fucks. So," he went on, looking around. "You're
an arms dealer now."

  "Jesus Christ," I sighed, shaking my head. "Say that a little louder, won't you?" I asked.

  "Right like anyone in Navesink Bank doesn't know exactly what you do here and since you parade around in that Henchmen cut, everyone knows that you are in the arms trade. I like the digs," he added, looking around. "Somewhat less depressing than that other place you crash in."

  "I've done a lot of work..." I started to defend.

  "It's still a shithole," he cut me off, making me wonder for the first time where the hell he called home. I had had him at my place several times, mostly uninvited just like he was that night, but I had never even heard him talking about his own place.

  "Made six-hundred on you tonight," Reign said, suddenly dropping in at Pagan's side.

  "Yeah, some fucker in a Hummer tailgated me all through town this afternoon. Instead of jumping out and road-raging all over him, I brought it into the ring," Pagan said, shrugging it off. And, with nut jobs like Pagan and Slate, it really did come down to that- who was the most pissed off that day. When Slate found his girl cheating on him, he nearly beat Pagan to death. That was just how it was- pure primal instinct over actual learned skills and makeshift therapy sessions over cool, collected fighting.

  "Could use a little crazy around here," Reign said, shrugging.

  "No," was my immediate, knee-jerk response.

  It wasn't that I didn't like and have a certain respect for Pagan; I did. He was a wild card, someone you could always count on to have your back, someone who always had the best plans for a night out, someone who believed in loyalty and had a slightly skewed moral compass.

  But did I think he should prospect The Henchmen MC?

  No fucking way.

  I had momentarily forgotten that knee-jerk responses weren't exactly welcome in the compound. We were allowed to have opinions, sure. We were even allowed to express them to Reign, but in private, where it wouldn't look like insubordination. Because while it might have been a brotherhood, it was still Reign's club. He ultimately had say over who was in and who was out.

  "You're gonna have to try to say that again with a little more respect for who's in charge here," Reign said, tone cold, making me stiffen.

  "I know it's your decision, but I think you need to really think on it," I tried, looking over at Pagan who was watching the interaction with a detached kind of interest, like he didn't care which way the argument went and, more importantly, he didn't give a fuck that I was trying to take an opportunity away from him.

  Seeing my inspection, he shrugged. "I dunno. I think I could pull off leather," he said, smile wry.

  "Laz," Reign said, jerking his head to the back door then turning and leaving me to follow behind. "Alright, make your argument," he said as soon as we were outside.

  "He's all over the fucking place," I started. "I don't even know if the guy has ever ridden a bike. He prefers fists over guns. And, well, he belongs to Ward," I said, knowing Reign and Ross had needed to have a talk about me when Reign wanted me to prospect. It wasn't good for business for Ross to look like he was aligned with any of the organizations in town seeing as his establishment catered to them all.

  "Don't get me wrong, we're all happy with you and Cyrus, Reeve, and Edison, but we still need more new blood. We need more strong personalities. And, quite frankly, we need some crazy fucks. Can you see Cyrus closing a deal with other crazy fucks like the Russians or the Polish? We need crazy to face up crazy. So you're going to need a reason other than him being unpredictable. Is he disloyal or unreliable or impossible to control?"

  No on all three of those.

  He could always be counted on to be on your side, usually without even knowing the whole situation. He never missed a fight, even when he had one broken hand. He had just fought with the good one. And he had a deep respect for Ross whose orders were always followed, even if it meant he had to do something he didn't believe in- like not go one-hundred percent in the ring because Ross wanted to give the new guy a chance to last more than a minute.

  "No," I admitted.

  "And you're friends with him."

  "Not close, but yeah."

  "I'm not saying he will get in. I need to see how he interacts with all you probies as well as Wolf, Cash, Repo, Duke, and Renny. The women and kids too goes without saying. And I want Renny and Mina to give their opinions and maybe have Janie and Alex look into his past. I'm not saying he's in. I'm saying I am going to give him a chance to prove he deserves to be."

  "And talk to Ross," I advised, knowing that while I had stepped back and decided to only fight on occasion, Pagan was a huge earner still and Ross might have a big problem with possible conflicts of interest.

  "Ward and I will talk," he agreed, nodding. "Not trying to step on any toes. Don't see it being a problem though since we have no enemies in town. We might not associate with Third Street, but they're not enemies. And since V and Lex are out of the picture, there's really no one we don't have connections with. The Mallicks, Hailstorm, Lyon, Break, Shoot, and the Grassis are all people we are friendly with."

  That was true enough.

  I nodded. "Just making sure you know what you're getting into here. I don't know what you're men were like before the war, but I honestly don't know if you have ever had someone like Pagan to deal with before."

  To that, he shrugged. "Maybe not. But maybe that's a good thing. If we want to survive long term, we need a variety of different members with different skill sets. And Pagan's own brand of anarchy might prove important in the future."

  "Can't argue with that," I agreed, figuring things were about to get a hell of a lot more wild in the compound. All you needed was one crazy ass fucker to turn all the rest into crazy ass fuckers.

  "Alright. So you get to go tell him," Reign said, clapping a hand on my shoulder and moving back inside.

  With that, I sighed up at the sky and headed back inside to find Pagan having a straight vodka drinking contest with Edison.

  So it begins, I thought, shaking my head.

  Things were about to get a hell of a lot more wild in The Henchmen MC compound.

  Edison won, not surprising anyone who had been around him the last few months and maybe also the fact that vodka was not Pagan's drink and he came up swearing and looking for anything to drink to wash the taste away.

  Spotting me, he tipped up a beer and then gave me a smile.

  "I'm in, aren't I?"

  And so he was.

  NINE

  Bethany

  I woke up to a finger tracing down my jaw then pressing into the cleft in my chin. My eyes fluttered open to a mostly-dark room, but there was noise all around- music, conversational voices, yelling. Whatever time it was, The Henchmen were still whooping it up.

  "What time..." I started to ask, trying to blink the sleep out of my eyes as Lazarus looked down at me.

  "Late," he said. His brows were low, his eyes looking apologetic.

  "Why aren't you out with your brothers?"

  "Rather be with you." He gave me a smile- warm like I remember things had been before my world went dark and cold, like back when I believed in things such as hope or a future.

  "Oh." The word came from some hidden depths as the fog cleared enough for me to remember we had been starting something before Reign interrupted and then I fell asleep.

  "No." He shook his head gently.

  "No?"

  "Well, I mean... yes," he went on, smile sweet, "but not here. Love my brothers, but when they're this drunk, there's no getting in the right mood."

  Confused, I felt my brows drawing together as his fingers whispered down my arm, making the skin goosbump under the attention. "Okay..."

  "You want to sleep or do you want to come home with me?"

  Well then.

  Was there really even a question there?

  As an answer, I slowly folded up, sliding my legs across his lap so I could scoot close, resting my head on his chest. "Take me home," I declared, meaning it
down to my bones.

  His arm slid around me and gave me a tight squeeze as his head rested on top of mine.

  We sat that way for a long minute before he moved us both forward and set me on my feet. He turned, going into his closet and grabbing a heavy sweatshirt, rolling it up for me and pushing it over my head. "It's cold out," he informed me as I moved to find the flats I had arrived at the compound in instead of the loathed heels and Laz grabbed keys. He met me by the door, taking my hand, and leading me out into the chaos of the common room.

  Chaos was the only accurate word.

  There was no other way to describe ten drunk outlaw bikers.

  "Laz," Reign called as we stepped into the doorway to the yard. "Run tomorrow," he said casually as he walked away.

  Run?

  "Shit," Laz hissed.

  "Don't worry." I shrugged as he led me to the bike that had me intimately aware was going to be frigid against my bare thighs, "I don't think any of them are going to want to go for a run all hungover," I said as Lazarus stopped me from getting on the bike.

  "I forgot," he said, looking uncomfortable.

  "Forgot what?"

  "We're not running tomorrow; we are going on a run." Sensing that that in no way helped me understand the situation, he shrugged. "Henchmen business," he clarified, making my lips form a silent oh.

  Henchmen business.

  The Henchmen dealt in guns.

  So they were going to, like, deliver guns?

  My stomach twisted slightly at the idea, at the danger involved- the chance of them being led into an ambush, of being taken down by a rival organization or, alternately, the possibility of getting caught by the police.

  "Hey, I'll be fine." He ducked his head a little. "I'm just mad I forgot to tell you. It'll be two days," he added, making my stomach twist harder. Two days. That meant I would have to go back to my old place, likely run into Chris, Sunny, or worse yet- their boss. "Come on, we'll talk back at my place where you're not fucking shivering," he said and it was the first time I realized I was.