Cyrus (The Henchmen MC Book 9)

by Jessica Gadziala

  "You think they missed on purpose?" I asked when I could seem to make my mouth move to form the words.

  "They absolutely missed on purpose," he said, giving me a nod as he reversed out of the spot, then swung the car in a nauseating turn, heading off in the direction of my apartment.

  Except he didn't go right there.

  No.

  He went up and down streets, going up from behind it, then pulling into the lot.

  We sat there, engine cut, for a long moment.

  "Do you, ah, want to come up?" I asked, thinking of the pile of sweaters on the table inside the door, the broken cup, and uncleaned-up coffee on my floor, but deciding I didn't care. I still wanted him to come up.

  "I'd like to check things out," he agreed, reaching for his door as I did mine.

  "Sorry," I said as I struggled with the five, yes, five, locks on my door. Put there by Tig, Kenzi's man, after he realized that Paine bought them for us, but we had never gotten around to installing them. "Overprotective men in my family," I added a little self-consciously as I pushed the door open, and reached in for the light.

  "So, am I going to find books in the cabinets and freezer, and crammed three deep on each shelf?"

  The sad thing was, yes. I had totally found a book in my kitchen cupboard a time or three without having any idea how it got there. The freezer, though, that was simply unacceptable.

  "You weren't kidding about the coffee cup," he said from a few feet inside as I pushed the door closed, then moved toward him.

  My back pressed into the island as I tried to take his attention off the mess. "I was, um, surprised."

  His head raised, eyes unfathomable, deep, intense, as he took a step forward, closing the space between us.

  His hand raised, whispering across my cheek to settle on my neck just below my ear. "You were worried about me."

  It wasn't exactly a question, but I answered anyway.

  "Yes."

  His finger brushed down the back of my neck slightly.

  "Had a conversation after I left you last night with my brother."

  "Oh?" I asked when he paused, not able to make anything more substantial form in my brain that was full of thoughts of how close he was, how good he smelled, how the look in his eyes was making my belly flutter.

  "He told me that I needed to make things more clear to you."

  "What things?" And why was my voice so airy?

  "About my intentions."

  Was he purposely dragging this out?

  Or was that my imagination?

  "What intentions?" I asked, the sound barely above a whisper.

  "These intentions," he declared as his hand tipped my head up further, as his head lowered.

  His lips sealed over mine, and this time, the shiver wasn't just inside, it racked through my whole body, producing a hard shudder as a whimpering sound escaped me.

  It wasn't fireworks.

  That was how the books described it.

  And maybe for some couples, that was it.

  But this wasn't that.

  This was something deeper, something that seemed to take root, and spread outward, something that branched out until I felt it all the way through my body.

  It was right.

  It was so, so right.

  Nothing had ever felt more right.

  His hand slid behind my neck as his other arm went around my lower back, pulling me against his body as his lips deepened the kiss.

  Tingly.

  My entire body went tingly.

  I could barely even feel it when my arms raised, going behind his back and curling into his shoulders, holding on, begging for it never to end.

  I wanted to feel his beard brushing over my face, his lip claiming mine, his hands on my body, his tongue teasing outward to toy with mine to go on forever.

  I wanted more.

  So much more.

  "Okay," he said, pulling away suddenly, resting his forehead to mine. "We have to stop."

  My body pressed further into his, my face turning to press a kiss under his chin. "No, we don't."

  There was a low, rumbling sound in his chest in response to that, something that moved through him, and into me, further melting my already liquid insides.

  His head lifted, his hooded eyes looking down at mine.

  "Slow, baby. We're taking this slow."

  There it was, that fluttering thing.

  I had felt it when reading a perfect hero in a book too. But that paled in comparison to feeling it in response to your own, real-life, flesh-and-bone man.

  "And in case that wasn't clear enough, Ree," he said, smiling at me as his thumb moved out to stroke over the apple of my cheek. "This thing between you and me, I think it's safe to say it isn't friendship anymore."

  "I don't usually let my friends make out with me," I said lamely, making his smile spread across his face, stretching wide enough to cause little crinkles to appear beside his seaglass eyes.

  "Good to know. So, you're willing to go there with me?"

  Willing?

  Willing wasn't the right word.

  Ecstatic. Thrilled. Delighted. In-a-tizzy.

  Those were more accurate.

  My lips tipped up. "I guess we can give it a shot."

  "Thank fuck. Alright. I'm gonna go now. Because, if I don't, I'm going to be going back on my 'take it slow' vow. Don't," he said when I went to open my mouth to say that maybe I was okay with that. "I only have so much willpower here, Ree," he said, hands moving down my shoulders to my hips, then slowly back up over my ribs, giving me another shiver. "You really were in a rush this morning, huh?" he asked oddly, making my brows draw together.

  "Huh?"

  "You forgot to put on a bra," he informed me, fingers tracing over the sides of my breasts through the thin material of my shirt.

  Oh, God.

  I did. I did forget the bra.

  I never forgot a bra.

  And it was chilly out.

  "Had a hail of bullets all around us, and all I could focus on was the way these," he informed me, thumbs moving out to graze over my slightly hardened nipples, making them tweak all the more, "were pressing into my chest."

  His gaze lifted, finding my eyes.

  Even I could tell how full of desire they were, my sex clenching so hard it was actually painful with need for fulfillment.

  "Tell me to leave," he demanded softly as his hands cupped under my breasts.

  "Stay," I said instead, everything within me demanding it.

  There was that rumbling, growling noise again.

  But his hands slid away from my breasts, down my belly, and sank into my hips, giving them a firm squeeze.

  "You're killing me, angel," he declared.

  I took a breath, drawing in some strength along with my oxygen, knowing that tonight would be amazing, but so would taking it slow.

  I was always a sucker for a slow burn.

  In fiction.

  Now I was just getting one in real life.

  "Your brother is waiting for you," I managed to remember.

  You know, his brother, who he called... because we had been shot at.

  I was pretty sure that was what my mind was supposed to be focused on, not the kiss.

  But, good lord, what a kiss!

  "Guess I should be getting back to them, huh?" I felt myself nod, even though my heart wasn't truly in it. "Fine, if you insist," he said with a small smile as he released one of my hips, steering me with him to the door. "I want you to lock all these fuckers after I leave," he demanded, waving at my locks.

  "I will."

  "Okay. I will find and charge my cell. And I won't miss anything else, I promise."

  With that, he reached behind my neck as his face lowered, pressing his lips to mine.

  I was pretty sure he meant for it to be a two-second goodbye kiss, but as soon as his lips met mine, there was no stopping until we were both starved for air, until my lips were tingling, until I was almost swaying on my feet
.

  "Goodnight, angel," he said, tracing his finger down my nose, then going out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

  As for me, well, I stood there numbly for a long second before his voice called through to me. "I don't hear the locks sliding. What if someone wants to come in and steal your beloved signed copy collection?"

  His voice was teasing, and I felt my lips curve upward until my cheeks hurt as I moved forward to start sliding the locks.

  "Good girl," he said, and I could hear his footsteps retreating.

  I leaned back against my uber-locked door, grinning into my apartment.

  My eyes drifted over to Knightley, bubbles coming out of his mouth as he opened it.

  "I know. I'm sorry. Your poor, virgin eyes. Next time, we will take it into the bedroom."

  Oh, good God, yes.

  Cyrus.

  In a bedroom.

  With me.

  Dreams, big, crazy, amazing, impossible dreams... they did come true.

  Mine did.

  I was no longer "just friends" with Cyrus.

  My mind in a swoony, dreamy state, it was maybe the first night of my life when I didn't pick up a book at all. Not even to read a blurb. Nothing.

  Because for the first time, real life was better than fiction.

  TEN

  Cyrus

  I needed to get my head on straight, I realized as I walked up the yard toward the clubhouse. All the bikes were in the lot. Meaning it was time for an emergency church session.

  Reign had even left his grieving wife and children for it.

  So you knew it was serious.

  But shaking the thoughts of Reese was proving, ah, difficult at best.

  Because shit just went down.

  And it was something I wanted to be able to think about. Like her body pressed to mine, her nails digging into my back, her quiet whimpers as my lips claimed hers, as my tongue toyed with hers. The way her eyes were begging for more. Her breasts in my hands. Her invitation to stay.

  I wanted to think about that shit.

  On a loop.

  And maybe with my cock in my hand because it had been physically painful to walk away from her as turned on as I was.

  But I had had a thirty-minute walk to roll the thoughts around, and it was time to shut them off, and focus on the club.

  "Anytime you can grace us with your presence," Reign said dryly as I stepped inside.

  "What? Tired of looking at all these ugly fucks, Prez?" I asked, forcing a smile, trying to lighten the heavy mood inside.

  "Now that everyone is here," Reign went on without comment. "Time to fill you all in. Lyon is dead, obviously. Cyrus was shot at, but apparently missed purposely. I got a call from Shane who was working on his piece of shit apartment building earlier today, and said that there was a drive-by around Third Street. But, again, no one got shot."

  "What about Lyon's place?" Renny asked, face more serious than you usually found it. "Were his men taken out?"

  "Converted," Cash supplied. "Or had a mutiny. One or the other. Things are still operating there. Gates are armed. Men are walking the grounds. There's some new boss in charge."

  "Shit," Duke hissed, running a hand impatiently through his light hair.

  Shit.

  That about covered it.

  If there was some new player in town, and he already had Lyon's mini military of men working for him, there could be a problem.

  The Henchmen didn't deal in drugs and, so long as Reign ran things, it never would. Guns only. And, more recently, the legit businesses as well.

  Third Street dealt in H and women.

  We had to wonder if this was just the start, if the Mallicks were going to get their own drive-by. And the Grassi family. And all the other guys who made money less-than-legally such as Breaker, Shooter, Ross Ward, Hailstorm.

  But, no.

  Hell, I almost laughed out loud at that idea.

  Only a fool would go after Hailstorm.

  Thanks to a couple shitty wars, Lo's ranks of veterans with very specific, very useful skills was growing by the week. By the sound of things, she was getting close to max capacity up on her paramilitary hill. I was pretty sure the local goddamn army couldn't step to her and her men and women.

  But the other guys, well, they all needed to be warned about possible drive-bys.

  "Why shoot at Cy, though?" Roderick asked. "They already did the drive-by when they took out Lyon."

  Reign shrugged a shoulder. "The thing with Lyon was targeted. The car didn't pull out until Lyon was off my property. That was clearly just a hit. And it proved to everyone that they could do a hit if they wanted to. But for us, for Third Street, for the other syndicates around who likely have this to look forward to, it's just a warning. It's this motherfucker pulling his dick out, and showing everyone how big his balls are. It's preemptive."

  "So, what?" Sugar asked, clearly agitated. "We sit and wait to make sure that flexing is all they are doing?"

  "Look around you, Sugar," Reign offered, waving a hand about. "There are fourteen of us total. Fourteen. I don't know if you've been around long enough to get a look at Summer's childhood home, man, but let me tell you, it made V's fortress look like a house with unlocked doors."

  "Yeah, and what about V?" Repo asked, tense.

  I didn't know every detail about that V situation, but I know Repo had been wounded trying to protect Summer, then had been part of the mission to get her back as well. Back before he was even patched. Loyal. That was the word you used for Repo.

  "Up in the air," Cash supplied, shaking his head. "I don't usually believe in hurting women, but I can't for the life of me figure out why Lyon didn't put her down."

  "Do you think that whoever this new power is will team up with V?"

  "Last fucking thing we need," Wolf growled.

  And, well, you had to agree with that. No town wanted a violent skin trader, shipping in innocent girls, and forcing them to be raped until they were no longer young and pretty enough to bring in clients.

  "Guess we're due." That came from Repo, drawing everyone's curious gazes. "Town like this, running somewhat harmoniously? No V. No Lex Keith. No real scumbag making waves, causing hurt. I guess we were due."

  There was a silence following that declaration, each of us maybe acknowledging the truth in it, but not liking it one bit.

  "If they're after the cocaine trade," Reign spoke next, tone somewhat reassuring, "then we likely don't have dick to worry about. Except if V gets out."

  "Why then?" Edison asked, not from around town, not having been around long enough to have all the dirt.

  "Let's just say that V has a score to settle with The Henchmen and Hailstorm for taking away her operation, killing her men, and letting her become a prisoner for years."

  "No way for you to maybe go over and meet this new player?" Laz asked. "Maybe see for yourself his or her plan for V?"

  "If we let on that V is a bargaining chip, we will live under this guy's thumb forever," Reign said, shaking his head. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm not about to become the bitch to some motherfucking cocaine dealer."

  There was a silent agreement across the room.

  "So what now? We wait?" Sugar asked.

  "Not exactly known for being fucking patient." That was Pagan, who had been uncharacteristically silent, not beating his chest and looking for blood as he usually would, always ready for a fight.

  "It's the best move." Roan, speaking for the first time, making everyone turn to see him standing by the door to the hall that led up to his little glass room thing, arms crossed, stance somehow both tense and casual at the same time. "Don't know the enemy? Watch them."

  "That out of the spy handbook?" Sugar teased, sending the older man a friendly smile.

  "Something like that. You don't want your dick shot off, don't get in their crosshairs. Really just more common sense than anything else."

  "So what? Hole up?" Repo asked, sounding as tickled at the idea as
he would be about getting five root canals in a row.

  There had been a lot of holing up. A lot of shipping the women and kids up to Hailstorm. A lot of disruption to daily lives.

  "I want Roan leading up a team to get some details," Reign surprised everyone by saying, making even Cash look taken aback. Guys who aren't patched didn't get jobs like that. "He has the most experience at this type of thing, and I don't have enough men to not give a fuck about one of you getting a casket for a bed. Roan," he said, giving him a chin-jerk. "Who do you want?"

  "Edison," he said easily. That one wasn't surprising. When it came to stealth, the man walked like a fucking mouse. "Reeve." My head shot to my brother, finding no reaction whatsoever to that. "That should do it. Too many men makes too much room for fuck ups."

  "Alright. And I want Wolf, Pagan, Virgin, and Sugar living, breathing, eating, and shitting guard duty around here."

  "And the rest of us?" Roderick asked, maybe somewhat off-put at not being named for any specific duty.

  Maybe I should have been offended as well. But I was too thankful for the freedom to be able to move around, to go see Reese, to give a shit about my pride.

  Besides, it didn't mean shit. Cash, Repo, Duke, and Renny weren't specifically called out either.

  "You want to be here, be here. Otherwise, live your life."

  That, apparently, concluded church.

  Reign moved to the side, talking low to Cash, Wolf, and Repo.

  "You okay with being on Roan's team?" I asked Reeve as he moved in beside me, handing me a beer.

  "Yeah, it's fine. If anyone can not get us dead, it's Roan. You wouldn't believe some of the shit he's done in his day."

  I shocked back at that slightly, knowing that, to all the rest of us, Roan had been tight-lipped, never giving a single detail about his life before. But maybe in the case of Reeve and Roan, similar personalities just clicked, and they had opened up around each other.

  "How'd it go?" he asked when I had no comment. "I'm gonna go ahead and assume that this friend of yours was the coffeeshop girl."

  "Not exactly a friend anymore," I admitted, not able to hold in the smile as it pulled at my lips.

  And, incredibly, I got a very rare, very telling smile back from Reeve. Wasp got one or two of them when she visited. But as a whole, Reeve simply didn't smile. Even when he did, it didn't touch the haunted look in his eyes.