Sugar (The Henchmen MC Book 12)

by Jessica Gadziala

  I was excited to see them hiked up on his shoulder again as he fucked me.

  That was the plan, at least.

  EIGHT

  Sugar

  It wasn't that I had forgotten I had invited her.

  It was more that... shit was happening.

  Not with the V situation.

  That shit was too quiet, too still, too everything. It was putting everyone on edge.

  But that wasn't what was keeping Virgin and me up at night, trying to track down leads, trying to make sense of it.

  No.

  Those would be the texts I kept getting.

  More and more paranoid more and more violent by the day.

  "The fuck are we supposed to do with this?" I'd asked in complete frustration after the sixth message I had gotten that morning alone.

  "Fuck if I know," he'd told me, unhelpful, but honest. "Doesn't seem to know our location, just that we are patched-up again."

  "Right. But if he finds it out, he's coming for us," I said, looking down at the note that said something about shooting us in the dicks before the head. It was colorful.

  And while our old president had absolutely been violent, he had never been, well, crazy.

  Now, that had seemed to change.

  "And there is at least one link that puts us here," he added.

  Heavy D.

  While we generally would trust the man to have our backs, shit had changed. Family was a factor when it never had been before. If the prez put the pressure on, took one of his loved ones, he would give us up.

  "The shit that makes no sense is why he's so pissed. So we left. So did every fucking one else. There isn't anyone left at that compound, in that club. I'm sure we aren't the only ones to have jumped to a new club."

  He stayed silent at that because there wasn't much left to say.

  And we had both agreed that until we got wind that he had found us out, we weren't bringing this to Reign.

  So all we could do was put out feelers. Buy burners to call old contacts, try to see if we were the only ones hearing from ghosts, why those ghosts were coming back to haunt us in particular.

  But we had come up dry.

  "Thirsty Thursday," Adler announced, walking in from who-knew-where. The man was an enigma. He was there, then he wasn't, usually without saying shit to anyone. "And I dunno about ya guys, but I am sick as shit of sitting around on my arse doing nothing. Roan, Reeve, Cy, Repo, and Cash are all here tonight. Why don't we all head out?" he asked, meaning me, Virgin, himself, and Roderick. "Lenny's place," he added.

  "What is it with you and that hellhole?" Roderick asked, looking disappointed. Likely because the place in question was the dive bar to end all dive bars. Which meant that no women - at least no hot and single women - hung out there.

  "Reminds me of some places I used to frequent at yer age," he shrugged.

  "Overseas," I said, half a question.

  His eyes cut to mine, but he had the best fucking poker face I had ever seen in my life. "Right," he agreed with a nod.

  "I'm game," Virgin said, nodding. He was getting cabin fever. He'd been on guard duty every day for the past five, not scoring any chances to hang out and keep an eye on one of the women. And while protecting the girls might not have been the most exciting job in the world, it was out at least.

  I had been put on Kennedy's once, then again with Maze the next day. There was no real rhyme or reason to who got picked for what. Generally, Reign just threw out names at church. I had been strapped to the club for a week and a half in the past.

  But it was unnatural for us. We were used to being out, doing shit, living life, taking rides, whatever.

  It was wearing on him if he was agreeing to go to a dive bar full of old, crotchety men.

  At least Lenny would be there. She was a bit surly at the best of times, but generally in a pretty hilarious way.

  "Ya in?" he asked, giving me a chin-jerk.

  "Yeah, I could use a drink," I admitted.

  "What are..."

  "Yo," one of Lo's guys came in, AK-12 strapped around his back, casual as if it was a backpack. Generally speaking, those of us here at the compound never showed off our illegal guns. What Lo had on the police force that allowed her and her people to do so right in plain sight with absolutely no fear of incarceration was beyond me.

  "'Sup?" I asked since no one else did, and he seemed to be looking at me.

  "Someone here to see you."

  My gut dropped for a solid three seconds before I realized that if our old prez was going to show up in Navesink Bank, he wasn't going to fucking politely come knocking.

  "Yeah? Who?" I asked, brows knitting.

  He didn't give me an answer, some kind of amusement pulling at his lips as he turned and pushed the door open.

  Then I remembered.

  Not that I forgot her.

  Not for more than, oh, thirty seconds put together.

  Yeah, that was how in she was, apparently. Not more than a handful of seconds would go by before she was right there at the forefront of my mind. And, for maybe the first time in my life, it wasn't just the sex. Though, let's be honest, there was a lot of sex. A woman who let you fuck her in the stacks of an open library where she worked? Yeah, that was highlight reel material. That I played over and over and fucking over in my head.

  But it was the other shit too.

  The just her shit.

  That was the weird part.

  It was her books - like the one I maybe forgot to even check out of the library. And a part of me wondered if I 'forgot' to do so just so I could 'remember' and return it someday soon.

  It was the crazy - but sexy as fuck - way she dressed.

  Her confidence.

  Her whacked sense of humor.

  Her clear love of her friends, and her willingness to stand up for them when one got shit on.

  Her ink, hair, piercings which screamed 'fuck off' to conventional ideas of beauty.

  Her just... her-ness.

  Her.

  Fuck.

  I was just digging it.

  And that, yeah, that was some fucked up shit, man.

  I didn't forget I invited her. I had, at times, been counting down the days. Today just so happened to be full of my old life shit, and I had lost track of time.

  But here we were, closing in at ten.

  And she was walking in the door.

  Only half-clothed.

  Looking like fucking sin.

  No wonder Lo's guy was grinnin' at me.

  "Fuck me," Adler hissed, looking almost pained as he did an up-down.

  Peyton's gaze had been immediately on me, all dark and promising, but at the sound, her eyes slid to Adler, her lips tipping up, her eyes going all sultry on a dime. I almost felt bad for the fuck. Because I knew what was going to come out of her mouth before it even did, and what effect it would have on him.

  Meaning a hard-on in a split second.

  I would know.

  I had had that look on me more than a few times.

  "Hmm," she said, letting the sound rumble through her. "Maybe someday," she said, moving toward him, patting her hand into his chest. "But, I regret to inform you, I am here for someone else."

  "Who? I'll fight 'em for a chance at ya."

  "You know," she said, smile moving around the room at everyone who was just barely managing to keep their tongues in. This woman seeped sex. "That might get me all revved up," she said, moving over to the chair, dropping her perfect ass down on the arm, raising an arm, and waving at me. "I'm here for Suga Suga. Take him down," she demanded. "Winner gets me."

  "Already have you, baby," I told her, moving across the room toward her, snagging her chin, dragging her back onto her feet by it, then claiming her lips.

  Not short and sweet either.

  No.

  I fucked her mouth with mine.

  Right there in front of all of my brothers.

  Until she fucking swayed into me.

  I pull
ed away sometime later, watching as her eyes slow-blinked open like she couldn't focus. Her hand went to my chest, but her head swiveled back to Adler, all heavy-lidded and needy - from me. "Yeah, he has me," she said in that breathy, sex-soaked tone that made a groan move through the man.

  "He proves disappointing," Adler said, not giving up that easily, "I'm here for ya."

  It was bullshit, of course.

  Once a woman - who was not a clubwhore - was claimed by one of us, unless the other had permission, she was off-limits.

  "Good to know," she said, trailing a finger down my chest, then stomach, only stopping when she met my jeans, her eyes moving up to mine, clearly knowing what she was doing to me... and loving it. "But I think I'm going to play with this one for a while still," she said, and my cock stirred even more to life.

  "Are you coming with us still?" Roderick asked, clearly ready to get going. Knowing him, he would start at Lenny's place before finishing at Chaz's where he could find a woman to take him home.

  "Going? Where are we going?" she asked, eye-fucking the shit out of me.

  "Bar," Virgin said, already halfway to the door. The poor fuck.

  "It sounds like a tequila night. Do they have a bar to dance on?" she asked, making my brows knit. Seeing it, she smirked up at me. "I tend to dance on them when I've had too much tequila."

  "I will build you a fuckin' bar just to see that," I told her, making her smile. And it lit up her face. Lit the fuck up.

  "Just let me have that mental image for a second," she said, closing her eyes. "Okay. Got it in there."

  "In where?"

  "My spank bank," she declared, loud as she usually was, completely unconcerned about her audience. Hell, maybe even relishing it.

  "Don't need a spank bank, baby," I told her as she turned, throwing my arm across her shoulders. "You got an itch, you call me. Got it?"

  "Ohh, bossy," she murmured, but she was smiling. "Are we taking your bike again?"

  "You want to take my bike again?" I asked as we stepped outside.

  "Yes. That is always a yes. In fact, I want to be bent over that bike at some point. Oh, hey!" she declared suddenly, making Cash visibly jerk backward.

  "No," he said, voice uncharacteristically firm, looking at me.

  "No?" I asked, brows going together.

  His eyes slid to Peyton. "What are you doing here?"

  "Going drinking," she declared. It was casual. Yet... not. I didn't know her well enough to give the tone a name, but I would swear it was something akin to... a warning? Like she was daring him to tell her not to do something. Given that the woman clearly had a rebellious streak, I guess that made sense. "Want to come? We could have a shots-off."

  "I'm still recovering from that one at Chaz's... six years ago," he declared, looking pained at the idea. And, to her credit, she did hold her liquor well. I bet she could drink some of us under the table. "You and me, we got to talk later," he said, shaking his head. And as he walked away, I could swear I heard him mumbling something about Cy.

  "They're leaving without us," Peyton said, tone a bit pointed as she started moving forward toward the bikes parked in the yard. "Don't want to miss any of the fun," she added.

  And, well, I could worry about Cash later.

  So, with that, she hiked up her skirt because she said it proved too tight to try to straddle me in, and we got on my bike.

  And as she slid into me, I couldn't help but wonder what panties were pressing into my back as I turned the bike over and peeled out.

  The ride to the shitty side of town was short, and the guys were waiting for us right outside.

  "I've only ever been in here once," Peyton admitted as my arm dropped down on her shoulders again, not sure why I felt compelled to keep doing so. "I had just moved to town and didn't know better. My ass was pinched within thirty seconds of entering."

  "This ass is mine," I told her, sliding my hand down for a second to grab it before settling on her shoulders again. "No one is touching it tonight."

  "Except you," she said, giving me a sultry look.

  "Except me," I agreed as we moved inside.

  "Adler!" the owner, Lenny's boss, Meryl, greeted my brother like some long lost son, beaming at him, clamping a hand on his back. "And you brought friends!"

  It was no secret that this bar, well, was a shithole. Granted, the bartenders kept the bar clean enough that it wasn't skeezy, but the clientele sucked, and the whole place needed an update... fifteen years ago. So getting Adler and, by extension, us, on occasion, was a big deal for this guy.

  Edison had been leaning up against the cigar counter that Lenny was standing behind. When his gaze went to me, then Peyton, he pushed off, moving closer. His gaze was pointed as he moved in beside us.

  "Peyton, this is Edison. Edison, Peyton."

  "Yours?" he asked in that rumbling, growling voice of his.

  "Holy crap," Peyton said, big-eyeing him. "Real people actually have voices like that?" she asked, shaking her head. "I thought only like Vin Diesel and Ja Rule had that sound."

  "You forgot Till Lindemann," I told her.

  "What? No, I did not. I would never forget him. He makes demanding your 'fruit' sexy somehow. I mean the 'I love you, whore' part goes without saying on the sexy-scale. Te quiero, puta..." she said in a sing-song voice, making Roderick's head shoot over, brows low. "Yes, I know what I just said," she told him with a saucy smile. "I can call you a whore in three languages," she added, sounding proud of that fact.

  And, luckily, the distraction was enough to make it impossible for me to answer Edison's question.

  Because, well, I didn't even know how to answer it.

  "Oh, look, another girl," she declared suddenly, sliding out from under my arm, and moving over toward the counter. "So, if I get tequila-drunk and end up dancing on the bar, I can count on you to spot me, right?" she asked, hopping up on the glass without a concern about it holding her. "Or would you be up there with me?"

  "Depends," Lenny said, head ducked to the side as she looked at Peyton.

  Lenny, for all intents and purposes, was not a people-person. She barely got on with us. In fact, aside from Edison, the only one she seemed to bond with was Adler.

  As for the girls club, well, she was an outsider.

  "On?"

  "What song is playing. If it's a certain R&B number from the late 90s, I would likely be up there with you. Shirtless," she added with a dry laugh.

  "It's 'No Diggity' isn't it?" Peyton asked, nodding like she already knew the answer.

  Lenny nodded, smiling a bit. And since she wasn't one known for smiling, that was a feat. "You just cost me a hundred bucks, by the way."

  Peyton's brows knitted. "How so?"

  "I had my money on Adler being the next one to lock a girl down."

  If it was possible for a woman like her to do so, Peyton totally sputtered.

  "You're still in the running," she told her, tone light, but there was a tension around her eyes that didn't seem to fit there. "No one is locking me down." She leaned closer to Lenny who actually moved in too, this woman who was a pretty big fan of 'personal space' moved closer to this practical stranger. Her voice was low, but for some reason, it carried to me. "We just like to get sticky-icky and ooey-gooey," she declared ridiculously.

  And, I shit you not, Lenny burst the fuck out laughing.

  "Whenever he is around, I can't get that fucking song out of my head," Lenny said, shaking her head as she looked at me.

  And, well, that song had been following me around since the early 2000s. I had learned to roll with it, embrace it. I had yet to meet a woman who didn't make a Baby Bash reference. Unless they were too old or too young to know what that even meant.

  "I still want a rematch, Len," Adler declared suddenly, signaling the dartboard.

  "Why? So you can claim I cheated again, you sore ass loser," Lenny called back, but lightly. None of her usual barbed wire in her tone.

  "Are you joining us?" Peyton ask
ed, jumping off the counter.

  Lenny looked at Meryl, knowing her shift wasn't over, but clearly not caring. "Yep."

  "So... how do I turn on 'No Diggity?'" Peyton asked as we all made our way into the back. "Damn. It's like the cast of Cheers hung around. And aged. Badly," she told me, looking around. "Look, there's Norm!" she declared to a heavyset man with curly hair in the corner.

  Christ.

  She was a handful sober.

  I couldn't imagine her shitfaced.

  She'd been drinking at Chaz's last Saturday, but she'd been careful. Especially once her friends left. It was clear that she was on the prowl, and she was smart enough to know there was fun-drinking and then there was dangerous-drinking. So she toed that line carefully.

  Now?

  Now I think she was ready to striptease right over that line.

  Why?

  Well, honestly... because of me.

  It shouldn't have, but it absolutely did, somehow make me stand up straighter, feel... I dunno... needed? And I liked the feeling.

  Shit.

  That was not good, right?

  To want to be needed by a woman?

  Especially a woman who out and out told me that if I caught feelings, she was gone.

  "You look sick," Virgin said, moving in beside me. Already, the weight seemed off his shoulders. He had barely had a sip of his drink. It was just the fresh air, the new scenery - as buttfuck ugly as it was - that calmed him down. "That girl," he said, nodding his chin toward Peyton who was raising a shot glass to clink Adler's, "she got a hook in you."

  "Yet I don't think she is even aware she is fishing," I said, reaching for my beer, already having decided that if she was going hard, I needed to go light, so I opted out of hard liquor.

  "Not like you," he added casually, since it was true.

  "I know," I agreed.

  "If you were going to catch feelings, at least it is for a mermaid," he said, making me turn over my shoulder to look at him. "What?" he asked at whatever look I was sending him.

  "A mermaid?" I asked, shaking my head. "That's sappy as fuck."

  "Fuck off. I'm not the one giving puppy eyes to some girl I met a week ago."