I sat down too, looking down at my hands for a moment. Was it bad? It was the worst. It couldn't possibly get any worse.
“Yeah,” I admitted, looking up at his face. He was attractive, unfairly so even at his age, a trait only men seemed to possess.
“Shit.” He sighed. “Should we all be worried?”
“No,” I said, firmly. “It isn't a threat. I am going to make sure it doesn't turn into one.”
“Lo, you know I have immense respect for you. I know you're one of the best out there, darlin',” he said, giving me a charming smile, “but not even you should be wading into bad shit by yourself.”
“I'm not in it alone,” I said, half-lying, not aware I was stroking Janie's locker until Malcom's gaze settled there.
“Jstorm's all over this?” he asked, lips twitching up, revealing his soft spot for her.
Oh, yeah, she was all over it, just not in the way he thought.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“You two together? You're a kickass team. But I'm not liking two women wading into bad shit alone either. Even two as badass as you two are,” he added when he knew I was about to pounce on him. Sexism simply wasn't acceptable at Hailstorm. We women busted our asses to be taken just as seriously as the men, which often meant we had to work a lot harder than they did, but we earned the right to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with our male counterparts. “Just sayin'... you know...” he added, eyes looking darker, worried.
“I promise if it is looking dangerous, I will bring some men in on this.”
“Good.”
“I am going to be a little... in the wind dealing with this,” I hedged. “I can trust you to hold down the fort?”
“Always, darlin',” he said, tone serious and I knew I could count on him. “I'll go round up the troops and fill them in. The usual.”
“Thanks, Malc,” I said, standing as he did and closing the distance to clamp him on the arm. I wasn't exactly a huggy kind of gal and he wouldn't be comfortable with his leader wrapping her arms around him anyway so it was as close to physical affection as we would get.
“Be safe, Lo,” he said, making it sound less like a plea and more like a command.
“Always. I'll be in touch,” I said, moving out of the barracks and quickly making my way to the line of vehicles we kept for common use.
I didn't pack. I didn't need to. I taught everyone to keep a bugout bag hidden somewhere close and then one far away in case they were ever in the need to get out of dodge. They knew it because I knew it. I had five bugout bags hidden in various places across the country. I never knew if shit would hit the fan in a way that not even the ferocious beast that was Hailstorm could fix. I always needed to be prepared.
I slipped in behind the wheel of a inconspicuous black hatchback and pulled out of Hailstorm with a lead-like sensation in my stomach.
I drove through town, slowing to check out the damage to Chaz's bar, seeing all five of the Mallick men and their father standing out front, arms crossed over their broad chests, looking hot and badass. Every last one of them was a black-haired, blue-eyed potential cover model. They also all looked quite vicious and pissed off as they had whatever kind of family meeting they were having. Out front of The Henchmen compound, bikes were lined up, making it seem like all hands were on deck. They were probably having church in wake of the bombings.
I took a turn out of my way, going up a hill a bit to check out the damage at Lex Keith's place.
It was bad. Whatever bombs Janie placed (and Janie was well known for her bomb work) were placed to cause maximum damage. The gate was blown open, for what, I wasn't sure. She wouldn't have needed to bomb the gates to get in. Was she not working alone? Jesus, did she team up with someone else without filling me in?
“What have you gotten yourself into, Janie?” I asked the car, watching the flames engulf Lex's mansion full of first edition copies of books he had never read and art he didn't understand.
A part of me, granted an ungracious, vengeful, borderline evil part of me, hoped he was slowly burning to death in there. The worst possible death for the worst possible person.
The other part of me, though, was pretty sure it wasn't possible to kill that evil bastard.
I did a quick K-turn and made my way back toward the other end of town, the bad end, the end even hardened gang members were a bit spooked to walk down alone at night. It had been a long, long time since I saw my old safe house.
Thirteen years ago, it was all I had in the world. I bought it with every last penny of stolen money I had on me, a steal really, but it was on the property directly across from a known and violent gang. So at twenty-four and female, it wasn't exactly a 'safe' place to be, but it was safer for me than what I needed to get away from. As time went on and I built up Hailstorm, there was really no reason to keep it aside from nostalgia. I could have made up a safe house anywhere. But I kept it.
I turned up the drive, checking out my mirrors to watch the guys across the street stand up on their stoop and watch me.
Crap.
It had been years. Leaders had likely come and went. New blood didn't recognize old faces. I stopped my car halfway up my drive, popped the trunk, and jumped out with the engine still running. I went to the trunk, trying my best to ignore the beating of my heart, reached in, and dragged out the two biggest guns that were stored inside.
I turned, arms raised, watching the mix of emotions run across their faces. Some, surprise. Others, fear. One, nothing. There was my leader.
“You guys hear of Hailstorm?” I asked, raising my voice to reach across the street.
“Yeah,” the one I pegged as the leader answered, jerking his chin up and keeping eye contact. Cool as a freaking cucumber. He was a good choice for leadership.
“My name is Lo and if you step one mother fucking foot on this property, I will round up some of my men, come into your little... headquarters,” I said, giving their dilapidated building a nod, “and personally chop off all of your dicks. You've heard my name?” I asked, seeing another small chin jerk. “Then you know I am perfectly fucking capable of following through with that threat. So, we cool?” I asked, keeping eye contact.
“Bitch, we cool,” he said, giving me a small smile that might have been charming if he wasn't a heroin dealer and pimp. “Ain't gonna step a foot on your property.”
“Good,” I said, lowering the guns and stalking back to my car. It was a risky move to threaten a gang, alone, female. It could have gone a completely different way. But fact of the matter was, I couldn't bring my men into my safe house. That was a part of my life they didn't belong in. So I either needed to be up front with the local bad guys, or shrink away and find another place to crash.
I was always the type to nut-up, so that was what I did.
I threw the guns back into the trunk, got in the car, and drove the rest of the way toward the house.
Calling it a 'house' may have been generous. It was really no bigger than a large shed, made of crumbling white stucco and a peeling black roof. The windows had been barred before I moved in and I added a security door for extra peace of mind. All in all, it was locked down tight. Last time I had been there, I had connected a light to a timer and kept the power, water, and heat going despite never even visiting to see if the place was still standing.
I reached under my shirt, digging out the chain that held the only two keys I ever needed- one to a safety deposit box where I kept all my other keys, and the one to my old safe house.
I locked the car, despite knowing that it would do me no good in a neighborhood where there was a chance my tires, stereo, and transmission could be missing by morning, and made my way up the gravel walk.
I slipped the key into the lock, feeling a mix of emotions flood through my system. First, there was the nostalgia, the feeling of comfort, familiarity, especially knowing that literally every last thing inside would be as I had left it. Second, though, there was a weird uncerta
inty that had my stomach rolling so fast that I felt queasy. Pushing past it, I pressed the door open and reached inside for the light switch beside the door. I flicked and nothing happened.
The swirling in my stomach intensified as I took a step in, reaching for my cell to brighten my way to another light source. I swiped through my apps, looking for the flashlight as I kicked closed the front door.
But then something happened.
A light flicked on across the room.
The swirling feeling in my stomach turned into a plummeting sensation.
“Hey, Willow,” a voice called. My phone fell and I turned to run.
Five
Cash
“Point me in a direction, Prez,” Repo said, fists clenched down by his sides. He had bulked up since he was patched-in, but was never a weakling to begin with. He kept his past locked down tight, but there was a darkness in his deep blue eyes and a scar that ran down the entire side of his cheek, cutting off at the sharp jut of his jaw. He'd seen some shit, done some shit before we even laid eyes on him. Match that with the fact that he had been beat to a pulp to try to save Summer once and then got up off his sick bed to come in, guns blazing, and help the rest of us get her out? Yeah, he was one of Reign's favorites.
“Don't have a direction to point you in yet, Repo,” Reign said, taking a stool and shrugging his shoulders. “All I know is someone is puffing their chest. To hit us? That's personal. To hit us and, say, the Russians? That's about trying to take the gun trade in the area. But to hit us, Hailstorm, Lyon, the Mallicks, and Lex? That ain't nothing but a show of power, telling us all to watch our backs. Ain't none of us have anything in common.”
“Hailstorm helped us,” Vin, an older member of the club, back from the days when our father ran shit, chimed in. “They helped you get Summer back. So did Lyon. And the Mallicks? Shane told us about that rat we had in the club.”
Good points, all.
“But we have never gone anywhere near that fuckwad Lex,” Reign said, looking up with his piercing light green eyes. “We haven't made any kind of stand against him, but I think it's pretty clear we want nothing to do with that rapist asshole.”
Also a good point.
We had been in church for almost an hour and we had gotten nowhere. I imagined the Mallicks and Lyon and Hailstorm all having similarly fruitless meetings, a thought that made me feel marginally better.
“We need to reach out,” I said, biting the inside my cheek and reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring a round. “I'll take Repo and go see the Mallicks. You can grab Summer and go see Lyon. I've already talked to Lo, but I will check in again.”
“Who the fuck you wanna send to check in with Lex?” Reign asked, a cruel little smile on his lips.
“Wolf,” I suggested with a shrug. Out of all of us, he would be the one most likely to keep his rage under control. He wasn't an easy fuck to rile. That being said, when he was riled, it took a small army to hold him back.
“Where the fuck is Wolf? Repo asked suddenly, looking around.
Reign and I straightened, looking around. “The fuck?” I asked, not seeing his face. How the fuck had I missed that?
“Did anyone call him?” Reign asked, looking at Repo for the answer.
“Sent out a mass text, man. But you know Wolf, he don't answer for shit.”
That was true too.
“I'll drop over tomorrow after we see the Mallicks. You know him... he takes off into the woods to hunt or fish or some shit and we don't hear from him for days,” I said, shrugging.
“Right,” Reign agreed, nodding his head. “Well, I don't think there's any real threat to any of us individually so you all can go home, but be sharp, keep an eye out, check in. I want you all here by tomorrow afternoon to tell me if you have heard anything. Repo, Vin, Jazz, Shredder,” he said, addressing the men who immediately straightened, “you guys good to stay here and hold shit down?”
“Always,” Repo agreed first. Had he been anyone else, he'd be called a kiss-ass, but being the lethal fuck he was, he was just a loyal brother. Anyone who said any differently would regret the hell out of it.
“Alright,” Reign said, standing. “Stay, drink, fuck, leave, I don't care,” he said, giving his men a sly smile. “I got a woman at home who needs some... comforting.”
With that, he was gone.
A moment later, his bike rumbled off.
“Want us to call some bitches?” Repo asked, sounding about as excited about the idea as I was, meaning, not at all. Usually, I was the one commanding we get some skirts in the clubhouse, but suddenly, I was just bone deep fucking tired. Taking one look at Repo, I saw the same exhaustion. He had, after all, been the one who needed to spring into action, round up the men, assess the grounds for threats, put out a fucking burning shed. He'd had a night. He wanted his bed. And, for once, he wanted it to sleep in. It was exactly what I wanted too.
“You do what you got to do. I got to get some sleep,” I said, nodding at Repo who looked relieved to be able to follow my lead. “I got meetings and shit tomorrow. Don't want to be showing up hungover. This is serious shit.”
The men nodded, but I saw one go right into his phone, hitting digits. No doubt, he was calling bitches. Which was fine. They could have their fun.
I'd had enough excitement for one day.
Six
Lo
I didn't even get four feet before I was snatched from behind, hauled off my feet, leaving me peddling air as I tried to reach behind me and claw at his face.
“You fucked up, Willow,” he said close to my ear, sounding like his teeth were clamped together. “All this fucking time, taking careful steps, staying under the radar. You finally, finally fucked up.”
He sounded excited about that fact. Hell, he was excited about that prospect. I knew that because I knew the bastard. I also knew that because I could feel his cock pressing at me through my jeans as I tried to swing my legs up then slam them back into him. My feet met thigh, but not with enough momentum to cause any kind of damage.
It could not be happening.
Fucking, fucking no.
I felt the hysteria rise up, frantic and useless, making my head feel light and my throat feel tight. Every bit of self-defense training, every endless hour spend grappling in that very position just flew out of my head, leaving me clawing at his arms like some pedestrian caught on the street.
“Not even gonna ask where you fucked up, Wills? How unlike you,” he growled, shoving me forward. The side of my face (along with the rest of my body) collided with the wall hard enough for my vision to go white for a second. But I wasn't granted the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness. What I got was a forearm pressed hard against the back of my neck and a hard, unyielding male body pushing mine harder into the wall.
“Let me go,” I said, wishing my voice would come out stronger. “You have no fucking idea what you are doing.”
“Oh, bitch, I know exactly what I am doing,” his voice grumbled as his hand went up under the back of my tee, snaking around my belly, effectively making me wish I could claw the skin off so I could never have to feel his touch on it again. “Been a long, long time. Skin is still so soft,” he said, low, almost seductive. I felt my stomach churn as his fingers toyed with the underside of my bra.
All I could think was: no.
Finding a bit of clarity, my foot slammed down on the top of his and I cocked an elbow, shoving it into his ribs, surprising him enough for his hand to drop from my neck and giving me space to turn. Before he even sucked in his breath, my fist landed true, hitting hard into his nose and I watched in satisfied disgust as blood started pouring out.
“Stupid cunt,” he growled and lunged and I knew I was in for it.
I was trained. I was skilled.
That being said, I was still a woman and no matter how skilled you make yourself, no matter how good you become, you will always have a physical disadvantage against a man wel
l over six-feet and built like a linebacker.
I never subscribed to sexism, but I also knew certain limitations came with my sex.
I just hoped I made it out alive as his arm cocked back and I felt the full force of a grown man's strength catch the side of my jaw, sending me flying. The explosion of pain radiated out from the strike point until the whole side of my face started to throb as I tried to push myself up off the floor, tried to gain my feet and my advantage of wiry quickness. But before I even had my upper body lifted up, his knees were at the sides of my hips, pinning me back down to the floor.
“You're never going to get away with this,” I said, trying to beat back the old, familiar tug of genuine fear. It had been so long since I felt it, since I knew how fucked I truly was, how utterly devoid of hope, of rescue. I always had my men and women. I always had someone at my back. For the first time in more years than I cared to think about, I was completely and utterly alone.
“What? You gonna get your hacker friends to track me down? Get your sniper friends to take me out?” My eyes must have widened or my mouth opened, because his handsome, evil face turned out an ugly sneer. “Didn't think I'd know about them?” he asked, shaking his head. “Not as clever as you've always thought you were, Willow.” He sat his ass back on his heels, watching me for a minute. I could have squirmed. I could have struck out, but the energy would have been wasted. It would be better to wait, to see where he planned to go from there, conserve my strength until I had a real shot. He clicked his tongue. “I guess I have to teach you a lesson, huh?”
I guess I have to teach you a lesson, huh?
Those ten words.
Fuck.
Those ten words had the nausea rising up my throat, threatening the very real likelihood of vomiting all over myself. But then he shifted his weight and I had a split second to register his fists rising before the pain started.
Cash (The Henchmen MC Book 2) Page 4