Colson (The Henchmen MC Book 20)

by Jessica Gadziala

  "I mean... I've been on a couple dates, of course. There were times when I was really looking for that piece that was missing. But that was way back when my mom was herself, when she could keep an eye on Jacob, when I didn't have to worry about her too. Nothing has ever gotten very serious. It isn't a lie about the dating pool shrinking as you get older. Add in being a single mom, and the options narrow further. My crazy shifts at work. Besides, I had a hard time relating to someone whose life was all about going out drinking or taking spur of the moment trips out of town. My life needed to be stable for Jacob, and none of the men I ever met were in that place. It didn't work out."

  "I know what you mean," Colson agreed.

  "From what I hear about bikers, women are always around the clubhouse."

  To that, he chuckled. "There have been times. When there were new, younger members who weren't locked down yet. Lately, though, pretty much everyone is shacked up except for me and the prospects."

  "Prospects?"

  "Guys who want to be patched members, but haven't earned it yet. I imagine when they are in, there will be women again hanging around. And that's fine. Casual is fine," he said, but there were other words left unsaid, I could feel them dangling between us.

  "But casual is empty," I told him, knowing from the few experiences I'd had with the idea of casually seeing someone, back when I thought that sex was what was missing from my life. It turned out it wasn't that. "Connection is better."

  "Connection is best. But sex can be pretty good," he added, tone attempting to be light, get the mood up again.

  "Can it?" I asked, chuckling. "It's been so long I've forgotten," I added, pulling away to scrub at my cheeks with the sleeves of my sweatshirt. "I think the other problem," I added, flipping down my visor to check the damage in the mirror," is you can't screw it up, y'know? When you have kids. You don't want them to get attached, and then be a part of breaking your kid's heart as well as your own when things don't work out."

  "Exactly," he agreed, and I could hear the weight of his feelings on the matter, just how much he loved his daughter. "But they're getting older now," he added, and I wondered if he was reminding me, or himself. "Jelly, ah, Jelly told me she likes you," he added, and that was pure vulnerability in his voice.

  Something in me felt pulled toward it, toward him. "Yeah?" I asked, feeling my belly swirl a little. "I like her too. I mean, she's all sunshine and rainbows, what's not to like, right? Don't worry," I said, smiling, "I know Jacob isn't always as easy to—"

  "Stop," he cut in. "Jacob is a good kid. He's just been led off the path you put him on. That's not on you. Or even on him. He's young and... would you hate me for calling him stupid?"

  "No," I said, laughing. "Stupid goes hand-and-hand with young. It isn't Jacob-specific. He really is a good kid when he isn't corrupted by those assholes."

  "You'll get him away from them one way or another."

  "Yeah," I agreed, feeling determination overtake my helplessness. "Thank you. I needed the pep-talk."

  "Anytime. And I mean that," he insisted. "I always have my phone. And, eventually, I will be next-door again."

  "And it rings, dings, and chimes both ways," I told him, angling my head up on his chest to smile at him. I chose not to analyze why I hadn't pulled away yet. "I know you can't tell me about your top-secret biker business, but you can be vague."

  "I'll remember that. Come on. Come in and have some coffee. Jacob is assed out. Your mom has a caretaker. Take half an hour to yourself," he suggested. And, well, it was a weekend. I didn't have to rush Jacob along to get ready for school. I had no pressing errands, no appointments for my mom.

  I was going to do something unheard of.

  I was going to have some of that thing they talk about online.

  I was going to have some me-time.

  Crazy, right?

  "Okay," I agreed, peeling myself off of him, only feeling a small twinge of disappointment to lose the nearness, then climbing out of the car and waiting for him to do the same.

  He moved in at my side, putting a hand at the small of my back. And, sure, maybe it was something he did to all women. Maybe it was chaste and simply a means to direct me where I needed to go.

  But that did not stop the thrill that moved through my body at the contact.

  I don't know what I expected of a biker compound. It didn't look much from outside, to be honest. Except for that weird-ass glass room on the roof I had wondered about on more than a few occasions when passing it on my way through town. But the rest of the building looked like what my mother said it used to be. A mechanic shop. Except they had clearly blown out the back several times over the years, making a pretty massive structure, though only one level.

  The inside was surprisingly nicely decorated, though. I imagined that had less to do with the bikers, and more to do with the wives that Colson had mentioned.

  The colors were deep neutrals, cool, but somehow still inviting. There was a full bar to the right inside the door, a pool table to the left, then a living room area directly forward with a nice set of couches and chairs and a truly massive television on the wall. Across from the living area peeked a kitchen, then a hallway that I imagined led back to bedrooms, judging by the number of doors I saw as Colson led me inside.

  "The guys might look a little rough right now," Colson warned, voice low. "I didn't want that to catch you off-guard."

  I'd seen my share of rough-looking men going to high school in a less-desirable part of town, seeing the aftermath of gang violence all my life.

  I figured I was prepared for anything.

  But being led into a kitchen that was dominated by four truly massive men that seemed to not only swallow up all the space, but all the air, and finding their eyes blackened, lips split, knuckles completely annihilated, was more off-putting than I had anticipated.

  I faltered back a step, only held in place by Colson's hand at my back.

  A dark-skinned, chiseled-jawed man shot Colson a smirk I didn't know him or their relationship well enough to interpret. But then his gaze went to me, the smile going kinder. "You're Eva," he guessed.

  "That's me," I agreed, giving him a truly mortifying sideways wave.

  God, once upon a time, I wasn't such a complete nerd, I swear.

  "Virgin."

  "I, ah, nope," I said, brows furrowing. "I, you know, birthed that blob asleep on the couch out there," I said, pointing over my shoulder. "He's not the next Savior, I promise you that."

  To that, I got a collective chuckle from all the gathered men, a deep, sexy sound I hadn't anticipated.

  "That's my name," Virgin declared, giving me stupidly perfect white teeth. The man belonged on toothpaste commercials.

  "Oh, gee, your mom hated you, huh?" I teased, getting another chuckle.

  "Virgin grew up in an MC. That name is what is known as a road name. Sugar over there is not his real name either," Colson clarified, waving to another ridiculously good-looking guy.

  "And I'm Huck," the biggest of the assembled men, one with a jawline that could cut glass and a really bad black eye, informed me. "I'm from the sister chapter."

  "Sister chapter," I repeated. "I never realized I would need a biker-to-English dictionary," I declared. "Does such a thing exist? Can I find a copy for sale somewhere?"

  "A sister chapter is just another MC exactly like ours, but in a different place with different people."

  "Right that makes perfect sense. You'll forgive me. I haven't had coffee in all of twenty-five minutes. I'm going through withdrawals."

  "Let's fix that," Colson said, moving out from behind me, heading over toward the coffee pot, pouring me a cup.

  "I didn't get your name," I said to the last man standing there. Tall, long-haired, bearded, with an almost wolf-like appearance to him.

  "Roan," he told me, giving me a small smile.

  "Is there some kind of rule that short men can't be bikers?" I wondered aloud. "I think each of you is over like six-two. Some sh
ort guy is going to get turned away and sue for discrimination. Your boss should be informed of the potential lawsuit," I teased.

  "Maybe someone will tell him when we find him," another voice said from behind me, making me stiffen and jump to the side, finding someone quite a bit younger than the others, tall, fit, but not overly bulky, with dark hair and light eyes and the kind of bone structure that would never go out of style.

  "Yo, kid," Huck chided, voice firm, waving a coffee cup toward me.

  "What? You think he hasn't told her?" the guy asked, jerking his chin toward Colson.

  "I haven't actually," Colson said, handing me my coffee. "This is Fallon. Our president's son."

  I didn't know much about bikers and their hierarchy. But I knew enough to know that the president was the guy who ran things, the one all the others looked up to.

  And their president, apparently, was missing.

  That was why Colson was living at the compound, why Jelly and Freddie were under armed guard, why the men had all clearly been in very recent fights.

  They were scared about who took their leader, worrying their women and children might be targets, and on missions to bring their president home in one piece.

  It all made so much more sense, even as a part of me wanted to reject it because it all seemed too crazy to my very average, painfully normal ears.

  "When was the last time you slept, little prince?" Huck asked the younger man, giving him a firm look.

  "Fuck off, Huck," the new guy declared, shrugging. "I will sleep when my father is home with my mother," he added, tempering his previous words. And no one seemed to hold a grudge, knowing none of them truly understood the kind of stress a son felt at the loss of his father.

  "Come on," Colson said, leading me back out of the kitchen. "Air was getting thick in there," he added as he led me through the living room and out the back door, the cool morning air biting at my skin, chasing away any lingering tiredness as I raised my coffee to drink. "Fallon is a good guy. But anyone would turn into an asshole after several days without sleep, and more questions than answers."

  "Plus he looks like someone jumped him," I added, recalling the bruises, the cuts, wondering how many were actual injuries inflicted upon him instead of ones he'd gotten from inflicting pain on others. "I get it. People do crazy things out of love for someone."

  "Like go into gang territory and threaten the members with a bat," Colson said, nudging my shoulder.

  "Mama Bear Mode is a freak occurrence, only getting engaged when their cub is in danger. I have absolutely no control over the stupid things I do when it happens."

  "You're a badass, Eva. Take the compliment," Colson told me, shrugging as he looked off on the trees in the backyard. Buried back there seemed to be an old car. A perfect make-out spot if we were a couple of horny teenagers.

  But we were boring old adults with kids and mortgage payments.

  "What are the women like?" I asked, part out of pure curiosity, the other part wanting to know for research purposes. Who ended up with bikers? Did any normal women get into this lifestyle because of a super hot guy, who is invariably tall and well-muscled? Or was it only other criminals?

  "They're all different. There are some crazy chicks. Hackers and paramilitary leaders, bounty hunters and mercenaries. But there are beauty shop owners and accountants and stay-at-home moms. Just like normal people, babe, different strokes and all that."

  "They all have kids?"

  "Most of them, yeah."

  "I see the gears turning, trying to figure out how someone would bring a kid into this life."

  "I didn't mean that you—"

  "No, it's alright," he cut me off. "Honestly, I doubted my decision for days before, for weeks after, until I started to settle in. At the time, I had been desperate, needing security for my little girl. And I couldn't think of any immediate way to get that. And I damn sure didn't know of any other way to give Jelly the life I had now, to give her the future I can because of this decision. And, honestly, it isn't like a TV show or movies. A lot of the time, things are tame. It's more like a giant family than a collection of criminals."

  "I don't like that word," I said, nose wrinkling up.

  "Criminal?" he filled in. "It is what it is, babe. That is what I am. And I'm not saying you have to love that if I am in your life in some capacity, but I'm saying that you will have to accept it. Because this isn't like some nine-to-five. I'm in it until the boss decides I can retire. And even then, this is my family now."

  "I can't say I understand that exactly, but I get what you're saying. And I am hoping I can come to see each of them as people instead of this outlaw organization or whatever. God," I said, shaking my head, letting out a deep sigh.

  "What?"

  "How the hell am I supposed to explain this to Jacob?" I asked, looking over at Colson. "Gangs are bad, but bikers are A-Okay? I'm gonna be called a hypocrite."

  "Yeah, well, when all else fails, do as I say, not as I do is always a good one to throw at them," he suggested.

  "They like that one almost as much as 'because I said so, that's why'."

  "I think that, with a little space away from that mess, and more time here, he will see the differences. He's a smart kid."

  "Do you sell guns to them? Third Street, " I added.

  "No, babe, no. Reign, our president, doesn't like the way they knock around their girls. And he really doesn't like that anyone who sells Easy Lay. He might be a criminal, but he has a moral code."

  "Wait... your president is named Reign?" I asked, smiling.

  "His old man was the previous president. He named his two sons after what mattered most to him. Reign and Cash. Power and money. He wasn't big on the having a moral compass thing, though. Reign was who turned this place around when he took over sometime around Fallon's age."

  "So much to learn," I mused, wondering when I would find the time to do so.

  "Stick around for a bit. You'll pick it all up."

  "That sounds like an invitation."

  "Because it is," he told me, sensing I needed reassurance. About what this was. About what we were doing. "This is a part of my life. A big part of it. And Jelly's, too. If we decide things are working out here," he said, waving between our bodies, "then it would need to be a part of your life too. And the only way you can decide if that is going to work for you is by spending some time here. Now, things are crazy right now. But I am hoping this will all shake out sooner rather than later. I will have more time then. I can work around your schedule. Until then... we will just play things by ear."

  "Literally," I agreed, producing my phone, waving it before I checked the time. "I should get Jacob home."

  "Stay," he suggested.

  "We'll be in the way," I objected. "I mean, Jacob is taking up the entire couch right now."

  "As soon as the guys wake up, caffeinate, eat, and shower, they're going to be gone again. Things have been real quiet around here lately. It will be fine. I have a room here for you to catch some sleep. I will find somewhere else to crash," he rushed to clarify. "Jacob is fine where he is."

  "You don't have to," I said. "Sleep somewhere else," I explained, cringing a bit at how small, how shy my voice sounded. I wasn't a shy woman. But this all felt very new to me. I guess, in a way, it was.

  I'd always stumbled into situations with men. And here I was, talking it all out like the adults we were. It was new. And interesting. And deeply reassuring. I don't think I ever realized how much uncertainty had been a major factor in my interactions with men before. Now, here was Colson, spelling it all out.

  It seemed so boring.

  Adult conversations.

  But, somehow, it was way sexier than I could have ever anticipated.

  Maybe, once upon a time, a young, reckless me would have wanted to jump first, enjoy the fall, never knowing if I would slip under cushioning water, or splatter against the rocks below.

  But grown-ass adult me loved the certainty, knowing exactly what was in
front of me, what I was getting into.

  "To sleep," I repeated. My body might have been throbbing for release, to feel his weight pressing me into a mattress, to feel the fullness of him slipping inside me, but I wanted that to be right. And in a clubhouse surrounded by unknown men with my kid asleep on the couch, it just didn't feel right yet.

  But sleep? Sleep on the strong chest of a man?

  That sounded amazing.

  "You look as exhausted as I feel," I admitted.

  "Sleep. Yeah, babe, let's sleep," he agreed, putting his hand at my lower back again, guiding me inside, letting me check on my kid, then leading me down the hall and into a bedroom.

  We both silently kicked out of our shoes, put down our coffee mugs.

  Then he sat down on the side of the bed, patting the space next to him.

  Short of crawling up the bottom of the bed which sounded too sexy if we were going to try to be just sleeping, my only choice was to move over his body.

  A thrill moved through me as I went to do so, one arm going to his side, my leg straddling him for the barest of moments.

  But before I could cross over him fully, drop down at his side, his hand moved up, snagging my chin, stopping me, drawing my attention to his face, seeing the desire there, the same kind I felt thrumming through my body.

  His fingers pinched my chin harder, drawing my head down toward his, pausing when I was just shy of touching him, looking at me for one second before pulling me to close the distance, his lips sealing over mine.

  The kiss got heated quickly. My hands planting on either side of him, my breasts pressing to his chest, my hips sinking down, feeling his hardness pressing against me. I maybe even did a small shimmy, needing to feel the friction of him against me, some small relief to the clawing need inside.

  But instead of relief, all I felt was more need, a wild kind of desperation that had me whimpering against his lips as my hips ground down against him.

  He didn't stop me.

  He didn't reach up to start peeling off clothes.

  His arm went around my shoulders, a heavy anchor.

  His other hand sank into my ass, dragging me against his growing hardness.