Renny (The Henchmen MC #6)

by Jessica Gadziala

  "I don't leave the toothpaste in the sink. And, um, I don't snore or talk in my sleep. I clean up after myself because that is what Lo expects at Hailstorm. I like to sleep in mostly because I don't sleep well."

  "Alright, so we got that handled," he said as I moved to the door, figuring now was the best time to get to work. The sooner the better. "Ah, I think not," he said, slamming his hand on the door as I reached for it.

  "What? Why not? They're all out there. It's the perfect time to catch them, when they're all at-ease."

  "Yeah, babe, but we've only been in here five minutes."

  "Don't call me babe. And so what?"

  "So, I might be cool with a fifteen minute quickie, but you're not walking out of her in under five looking like I didn't even muss your fucking hair. In fact," he said, smile wicked, "maybe you can throw in some throaty 'yes, yes, yeses' or some 'just like that' or, if you're feeling naughty, 'yeah, fuck my pussy!'."

  Oh, good lord.

  I wasn't exactly shy about sex. And nothing about what he actually said offended me, but I felt my face getting warm as I stood there.

  "You blush? No fucking way," he said, grinning huge. "Look at that, it gets redder when you bring attention to it!" he added, clearly delighted by my discomfort. "Do you think they'll turn beet if I maybe," he started, hands raising and framing my face, "said I wonder what you taste like. Sweet? I bet you have the sweetest fucking pussy. There," he said, but his voice wasn't teasing anymore; it was heated; it was low and sexy and promising as his thumbs moved out to stroke over the apples of my cheeks.

  "Do you flush when you're turned on too?" he asked, mostly himself, as one of his hands left my jaw and slid down my neck, snagging the collar of my shirt and pulling it down to expose some of my chest, looking for proof of his theory. "I can just imagine," he went on, leaning forward, his nose moving up my jaw toward my ear, making me shiver involuntarily again, "stripped bare on my bed- your chest, belly, thighs all warm and red as I run my tongue up your inner thighs, biting hard once," he said and his teeth snagged my earlobe unexpectedly, making me let out a surprised groan, the sound loud even to my own ears. "Then feeling your entire body tremble as my tongue slides up your wet pussy and my lips close around your clit and sucks hard."

  Desire was a pulsing, overwhelming thing coursing through my whole body. It was loud and strong enough to push away the rational voice in the back of my mind telling me to raise my hands and push him away.

  My arms did raise, but my hands landed on him- one low by his hip, the other on his arm just under his shoulder, and they curved and dug in as my hips pressed into his, as my body tried to get closer, get a relief from the need overtaking me.

  My back arched backward as his lips kissed down the column of my neck and down to my chest where he was still holding my shirt down several inches.

  "I'd let you come," he told me, his tongue moving out to trace under my clavicle. "But then before your pussy even stops spasming, I'd slam deep inside you and fuck you hard and fast, make that one orgasm roll right into another one. Then just because you've made me wait so long for it, I'd give you another one. Until you're so come-drunk that you can't even fucking move afterward."

  My air sighed out of me as his tongue traced back up my throat until his mouth was by my ear again.

  "But not just yet," he told me, pulling back suddenly, leaving me embarrassingly unsteady, grabbing him tighter for a second as my heavy lids fluttered open to find his light eyes watching me intensely. As soon as my gaze found his, he released me, reaching up toward my hair, slipping his hands in, and mussing it up. "There we go, that's better," he said, sexy as all get out to teasing and light in the span of a blink. I would have found it impressive if I wasn't so thrown off by it. "Let's go," he said, reaching down, grabbing my hand, opening the door, and pulling me out.

  I reached up self-consciously to flatten my hair as we walked out into the main room, feeling a blush creep up again as Renny threw himself down in an armchair and I moved to go sit on the arm of the couch next to the guys.

  "Pumpkin cheeks," Renny called, making my eyes bug. Pumpkin cheeks? "I have your seat right here," he said, patting his thigh.

  And, well, we were supposedly post-coital. It made sense for me to sit with him. The jerk.

  "Right," I said, forcing a smile as I moved back to him, sitting carefully down right above his knees.

  I should have known better. He was never going to let me get away with that. He reached for my hips, sank in, and dragged me upward until I was on his lap. And it was right then that I realized he hadn't been able to completely cool his desire as quickly as he pretended to. Because his hard-on was pressing into my ass as I sat there.

  My gaze went to his face without me realizing and I found him already watching me, eyes a little heated. He reached out, tucking some of my hair behind my ear. "Bet you're just as wet as I am hard," he said in a low, audible only to us, rumble.

  He would win that bet.

  But I needed to focus.

  This was a job.

  And I had known he was going to make a move. I thought I was prepared. I obviously underestimated Renny. I had him pegged for sweet and charming and boyishly flirtatious.

  But Renny was a man.

  And Renny could dirty-talk any man under the table.

  And I was a woman and I reacted.

  Now that I knew what he was capable of, I would be better prepared.

  Or so I was telling myself.

  Because if I really thought about it instead of making unfounded declarations, I would realize that there was no preparing for it. Anytime he got that close to me, talked that dirty to me, put his hands and mouth and tongue on me, I was going to melt.

  "So, this is Mina," Renny declared, making me shake my head, realizing I had totally been starting at him. Feeling me jump and to squash any hopes I had that maybe he hadn't noticed, his fingers dug into my hipbone and his lips tipped up. I turned back to the others in the room and gave them a smile. "Mina, this is Reeve and Cyrus and, of course you already know Laz."

  "Nice to see you without the cuffs on, Laz," I said, and he smiled at me. He was a somewhat serious kind of man. Seeing him smile was almost off-putting.

  "Cuffs?" Cyrus perked up, brows raised. "Angel, did you cuff this man and have your dirty way with him?"

  I was in the process of laughing when Renny's voice cut me off. "Just so we're clear- when we have an old lady, that means we don't fucking share. Mina is mine. Look at her all you want. Can't fucking blame you and it's a compliment to me seeing as I'm the one she crawls into bed with at night. But keep your hands off and don't insinuate she is anything but loyal."

  Chastened, Cyrus slumped just ever so slightly. He wasn't used to a firm male presence which probably had a lot to do with losing his father young. "Got it," he said, his voice having lost a little of its levity.

  "It's nice to meet you Cyrus," I offered, making my voice a little softer, a little sweeter than usual. "Don't mind Renny. He's a neanderthal," I offered, figuring it would be good to create a different dynamic with the guys than Renny had. If he was a boss, a man to take orders from, someone who maybe couldn't take a joke because it said he wasn't being authoritative, then I could be the one who made fun of that. Because as an old lady, that was in my power. And maybe it would make the guys, especially Cyrus, flock to me and open up to me. "I hear you play guitar."

  "Picked it up because it seemed like all the musicians got all the pussy," he offered, smirking.

  "He is leaving off the fact that he first picked up a guitar at eleven," Reeve added, smiling slightly.

  "What can I say? I was an early bloomer in the ladykiller department. Don't get your dick all bent out of shape because I always get all the chicks." He tempered the comment with a wink that would have been ridiculous on anyone else, but he managed to pull it off.

  "And Reeve, you're..."

  "An electrician. While some of us were singing fucking John Mayer songs, the res
t of us were doing actual work."

  "I played a John Mayer song once. Fucking once," Cyrus defended. "And it was a request. 'Your Body is a Wonderland'," he explained to me. "And, well, her body was a mother fucking wonderland which I got to experience because I sang that song, you fuck."

  "You still knew that fucking song, man," Reeve said, shaking his head.

  They were close.

  If I was right, they likely moved out together when they were old enough. Reeve, being the more responsible and serious one, got a job that would make up for the fact that his brother was a bit of a slacker.

  Really, none of this was groundbreaking. And all of it could have been ascertained by Renny and Renny alone. He knew what he was doing. I wasn't needed there.

  "Got a four inch scar across his throat," Renny said, only loud enough for me to hear.

  "What? Who?"

  "Reeve," he offered and I turned back to Reeve, squinting a little and sure enough, there it was. I had completely missed that.

  A scar across his throat?

  "Suicide?" I asked, barely letting my lips move.

  "Not a chance," he answered back, reaching up to pull me so my head was on his shoulder.

  "How do you know that?" I shot back, trying my best to not nuzzle in. He smelled good. How had I never realized that before? It was something clean and unobtrusive. So not likely cologne. Maybe it was just his soap.

  "Just do," he said, his hand moving absentmindedly down my arm, making the skin goosebump in a delicious way.

  "So what is he hiding?" I mumbled.

  "Exactly," he agreed, leaning over and planting a kiss to my forehead. And it was so unexpected and so sweet that my belly did a weird little flip flop.

  "And if he is hiding something, so is Cyrus."

  "Yep. See?" he asked, reaching up to boop my nose, "we make a good team."

  As I sat there and listened half-heartedly to the guys talk, knowing Reign was paying me an obnoxious sum to give them my full attention, I couldn't help but, for the first time in my career, start to doubt myself. I missed Laz's knuckles. I missed Reeve's throat. Granted, I never claimed to be hyper-observant; my specialty was figuring out what was being said between the actual lines of dialogue, what motivated people, what made them who they are. But still, those were some pretty huge things for me to have completely missed.

  "Sugar lips," Renny said, his voice amused.

  Sugar lips?

  He was just screwing with me.

  "Yeah?" I asked anyway, tilting my head up to look at him.

  "Asked if would whip us up something to eat," he said, clearly enjoying himself.

  "I, ah..." was a pretty awful cook.

  "Anything will do, hop to," he demanded, pushing me off his lap and I took my feet in a weird little daze.

  Hop to?

  Hop to?

  He would pay for that later. I gave him a look that told him just that. "Fine," I snapped, making my way toward the kitchen.

  "Trained her pretty good," Renny said, just to goad me. "She couldn't follow an order for shit when she showed up."

  I was pretty sure an actual growl escaped me as I turned into the kitchen and went for the fridge that Repo always kept well-stocked. It was full, of course, but I didn't know any recipes.

  But I grabbed about half the contents of the fridge and dropped them on the counter anyway. I was leaning down trying to drag a giant pot out of a cabinet when I heard a male voice from above me. "Not much of a cook, huh?" Laz's voice asked, making me straighten, pot between my hands.

  I put it down on the stove. "Why would you say that?"

  "Honey, you took out a bottle of maple syrup along with the butter, hot sauce, and all the meat and fruit in the fridge."

  Okay, so maybe I wondered if maybe you made dishes a little sweet when you added a little syrup. And apparently that was wholly wrong.

  "He knows I don't cook," I let him in on. "He's just flashing around his peacock feathers so he looks like a badass around you new guys."

  Lazarus chuckled, putting the hot sauce, butter, and maple syrup away. "So the pot," he said, jerking his chin toward it. "Were you thinking soup or stew or chili?"

  "I was thinking of throwing everything in it and see what happens."

  "A fire, most likely," he smiled, making little crows feet form next to his eyes. I found them endearing. "My ma, growing up, we didn't have a whole fuck of a lot of money, not even for food. So she used to make what she called Kitchen Sink Soup when we had just little bits left of a bunch of shit. She hated wasting anything."

  "Kitchen Sink Soup?"

  "Yeah, meaning everything but the kitchen sink," he let me in on, reaching for the spinach and ripping it with his hands and dropping it into the pot. "Funny thing, no matter what she threw in, it was always good. Not even you can fuck it up," he said with a smirk that I found I really liked.

  "So what can I do?" I asked, looking at the pile of food.

  "Peel carrots and then slice them."

  "I can handle that," I agreed, looking through all the drawers before I finally found the peeler.

  Then we set to work, talking occasionally.

  "Your mom didn't cook?" he asked as I dropped some of the onions I had been chopping into the pot.

  "My mom was into appearances. So she would order in and plate the food then toss the take-away containers and pretend she cooked."

  "Why the fuck would she do that?"

  "Because she was looking for any way to make her husband love her," Renny supplied, making me jump hard, jerking my head over to find him leaning in the doorway, looking like he had been there a good long time.

  He was right, damn him.

  And that was personal.

  "Don't worry, Mina," Laz said, as if sensing the tension between me and Renny, "there are other ways to a man's heart than through his stomach."

  "Laz, the back bar needs to be cleaned," Renny said dismissively.

  Lazarus stiffened at the same time I did. Because Laz was in recovery. Renny knew that. And he was making him go clean the back bar? For no reason?

  "Not a problem is it?" he went on, his tone dead.

  And there he was- cold, unpredictable Renny.

  I had started to forget he existed.

  "Nope, not a problem," Laz said, shaking his head as he went to the sink to wash his hands. "Just let it simmer and don't touch it," he told me, giving me a small smile. "It should pull through just fine."

  "Thanks for your help," I called to his retreating form as Renny pushed off the doorway and moved in. I advanced on him immediately, shoving my finger into his chest. My voice when I spoke was low and livid. "What the fuck was that about?" I hissed.

  "He does what he's told to do. I told him to clean the back bar."

  "He's a recovering alcoholic, you ass!"

  "And now we will see if he has self-control around those bottles," he shrugged.

  I exhaled hard. Anger wasn't going to work on this version of Renny. I had seen him and Duke go at it several times and it never changed anything. Better to approach him with calm.

  "Why are you being a dick right now?" I asked, tone even.

  "I'm doing my job. You're supposed to be doing your job too. Or did you forget that?"

  "I believe I just stood here and listened to a long part of Laz's back story. So, no, I haven't friggen forgotten to do my job. What is with the attitude?"

  "No attitude. Just making sure you're earning your paycheck."

  My blood was boiling. Boiling. I didn't do anger often so when it coursed through me, I was ill-equipped to handle it properly.

  So I lashed out.

  "I don't know who the fuck you think you're talking to right now," I started, advancing him, pleased when he actually went back a step. "But I am not one of your probates. I am not beneath you. I have a job to do and I have to do it while you are grab-assing and insulting and demeaning me to the men around here. I am not going to put up with you turning into a goddamn jackass to bo
ot. Check your fucking attitude when you speak to me."

  "Careful, Mina," he warned, his voice even colder.

  "Careful or... what, Renny? You might be a genuine ass when you're in one of these moods of yours, but you won't put your hands on me. So, what? You'll make comments about my unhappy upbringing? Oh, wait, you already did that. You have nothing on me. So keep your threats to yourself and do your damn job and leave me the hell alone."

  "You're right. I don't have much on you. Funny, that. Seeing as I have known you for months, have been trying to get to know you for months and you won't give me shit. You barely even give me a smile. But five minutes in the kitchen with some nobody fighter and you are spilling all kinds of shit to him."

  "Seriously?" I asked, mouth falling open slightly. "You can't be serious right now. You're... jealous?"

  "You went from soaking your panties for me in my room to melting into me as we sat in the main room and you zoned out to spilling all your secrets to a guy you don't know from Adam? So, what? I'm good for a fuck but not some background information?"

  "So this is insecurity," I concluded. "That's interesting." If he wanted to play cold, well, he was out of his depth. Because women, yeah, we could freeze your dick off when we wanted to.

  "Oh fuck off with that," he said as I turned to go stir the soup.

  "Fuck off with what? A taste of your own medicine? It's bitter isn't it? And I bet no one else is willing to shove it down your throat. I'll be happy to freaking gag you with it."

  "You're being..."

  "An ass?" I supplied, brow raised. "Cold? Detached? Insulting? Hey, Kettle, it's Pot again... and you're still fucking black."

  To my surprise, he froze for a long second, watching me. It happened gradually. I would have missed it if I hadn't been watching him so closely. But the skin around his eyes softened. His jaw stopped being so clenched. Then a slow, familiar smirk tugged at his lips.

  "You curse a lot more when you're riled," he observed, clearly enjoying that little tidbit.

  Really, it was unsettling how he switched back and forth between the two versions of himself. And, being that I wasn't used to it, I was finding it hard to let go of the anger I felt, the offense I took to everything he had said. It wasn't exactly fair of me. I knew he had some issues and I knew that, in a way, his moods like that weren't really him. They were his monsters, his damage, his scars all wearing his face and talking with his mouth.