Fallon (Henchmen MC Next Generation 3)

"Pour me a glass," Rowe agreed, watching Billie's profile for a long moment, but she refused to even acknowledge his presence.

I had no idea what had gone down between the two of them, but I had a feeling there was a story to tell there somewhere.

But there were more important things to think about, to work on.

It wasn't until we finally heard back from the guys—my father this time—that we felt like there was some calm in the club.

Repo had been right.

Edison and Adler had each taken several shots. Adler had skated death by a half of an inch, according to his doctors. Slash had needed a couple transfusions, but was on the mend too. Pagan had been rushed to surgery for his leg, but was healing up after. And everyone else had taken outright hits to minor areas, or had merely gotten grazed. Wolf had a broken arm from landing on it when he flew off his bike. And my father had a concussion and road burn.

But everyone would live.

And once they healed up, and we figured out who'd done it, they would go right ahead and risk those lives again to take the motherfuckers out.

After we got that call, the guys who weren't on guard duty finally dragged themselves off to catch some sleep before it was their turn to take over.

"You gotta get some sleep too, boss," Cary said, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he moved past to go catch a few winks.

I would.

Eventually.

When I could shut my mind up.

As it was, I felt wired.

So I went downstairs past the sleeping girls, then up into the glass room, releasing Brooks to go get a couple hours of rest while I looked around.

It was only while there that I reached for my phone again, seeing a notification for a missed text.

From Danny.

My heart seized in my chest, suddenly remembering that the Henchmen weren't the only targets of these fuckers, that the Vultures were at risk as well.

Danny was at risk.

Stomach twisting, I swiped through my texts to find hers.

From a few hours before.

All she'd sent was a question mark.

Maybe she'd heard about our men, was trying to ask if I was alright without giving herself away.

I don't know what possessed me, but my finger slid to the call button before I raised my hand to my ear as I closed the door to the glass room.

"Fallon?" Danny asked, voice alert, tight. Worried? She sounded worried, even if that went against everything she usually projected to the world.

"Yeah, babe."

"You're alive."

"Yep. You heard?" I asked. "I should have texted to warn you."

"I heard. I've been..."

"Worried?" I supplied for her, knowing she was tripping over the word.

"Concerned."

"Means the same thing," I told her. "Are you and your club battening down?"

"I don't know. I'm not there."

"What do you mean you're not there? Where are you?"

"On top of the laundromat," she informed me, making me turn in that direction as though I could see her. The sun was starting to come up, but it was too dark to see anyone.

"What? Why?"

"I was watching to see if I caught sight of you," she admitted, voice small, like she was afraid someone might overhear.

"It's not safe for you to be out in the open."

"I'll be fine. I know what I'm doing."

"My men knew what they were doing. They've been doing this longer than we've been alive. Doesn't mean a bunch of them aren't in the hospital right now."

"Did you lose anyone?"

"No. Thank God. We have a couple of close calls, but everyone is going to be alright after some time to heal."

"I'm glad to hear that. It's... it's not easy to lose men. And then try to keep the morale up after a loss. It's good you don't have to deal with that. Did they get any of the bastards?"

"No."

"Damnit," Danny hissed, frustrated. "Sorry. I mean, I'm not mad at your men. Just the fact that these fuckers have managed to do as much damage as they have already without us figuring out anything about them."

"We're working on it. Hopefully, some of our contacts can find some cameras or something. You need to get back to your clubhouse," I insisted.

I wanted to offer to drive her back. But there was no way for me to get away, not with all the men on high alert.

"I will," she said. "Has anyone asked you how you're holding up?"

"My mom," I admitted.

"Yeah, but you try not to worry your mom, right? I wouldn't know. I never had one. But if you need to vent, president to president, I'm here," she offered.

I didn't vent to anyone, not really. Because it was important to me that my men and my family saw me as strong and capable.

No one else besides from my father could truly understand anyway.

Well, no one but my father and Danny.