Fallon (Henchmen MC Next Generation 3)

I had no muscles, no bones, no way of moving myself.

A low, sexy chuckle moved through him as he reached down, grabbing me, and tossing me more toward the center of the bed, so he had room to climb on as well, pulling me to his side as my body finally seemed to unfreeze, leaving me racked with aftershocks, something I'd only ever heard about before, never experiencing it firsthand.

"You good?" he asked, and the cocky edge to his voice let me know how proud of himself he was. And, hell, I couldn't even blame the guy. He'd earned it.

"Shut up," I said, jabbing him with my elbow.

"I thought we weren't allowed to say that," he said, raising a brow at me when I looked up at him.

"No. I believe we said you aren't allowed to say it," I corrected, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Fair enough," he agreed, reaching up to sift his fingers through my hair. "We need to finish that phone call," he reminded me.

"Ugh, fine," I grumbled, pulling away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Fallon asked, dragging me back.

"I need to have panties on to finish this phone call," I declared. Did it make sense? Nope, not in the least. But that was just how it was.

Judging by the confused look on Fallon's face, he didn't get it either. But he let me go fetch my panties and pants.

"You're not even going to pretend you aren't staring at me?" I asked, shooting him small eyes.

"Nope," he said, shaking his head.

"Pig," I teased.

"Yep," he agreed, reaching for his phone as I crawled back up the bed to sit beside him.

"Danny?" my father answered, voice tight.

"Yeah, it's me. You ready to talk?" I asked.

"Yeah," he agreed, voice grim.

Grim.

Which made me think he'd done some talking with his men while Fallon and I had been... otherwise occupied.

"Did you find something out?" I asked.

"Seems like Chewy was spouting off about needing to take out the Henchmen, and about how you were unfit."

"And, of course, your men saw nothing wrong with that," I griped.

"I'm trying here, Danny. Don't make it more fucking difficult."

I had to bite my tongue to keep from reminding him that being decent to your own daughter shouldn't require actual trying.

"Why didn't your men say anything?"

"They thought he was smashed," he said.

"But?"

"But it seems like he had gone out with three of my men the night after he got here. Were gone all night."

"You're going to question them," I guessed.

"They're already in the shed," he told me.

The shed.

Those words made a shiver course through me.

That shed was site of some of my worst childhood memories.

In some of them, I was made to bend over a table so my father could whip me with his belt until I had welts, until they broke open, until I was bleeding.

In others, I was standing by watching him or some of his men question club members or suspected enemies. Let's just say, I didn't inherit the kind of strong stomach that made it possible to pry out people's teeth or snip off their fingers with gardening tools.

Fallon's hand grabbed my knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze, seeming to sense my dark mood that came with those memories.

"When you have answers," I prompted.

"I'll call. Is this the number?" he asked.

"You can call this if you want. Or my phone. It's just charging now."

"Alright. By tonight," he said, ending the call.

"You alright?" Fallon asked after as I stared ahead at the wall.

"The shed," I repeated. "Bad memories," I added.

"Rumor is, there used to be a shed here too back in the day," Fallon said. "It blew up."

"What?"

"Yeah. My now-aunt. She has a thing for explosives."

"That sounds like a woman worth knowing," I decided.

"There's a lot of those around here."

"That's going to be weird for me," I admitted, resting my head against his chest. "Aside from clubwhores, I was always the only girl around."

"No one in your father's club is married?"

"God, no. I mean... if you met them, you'd understand why no woman would want them."

"You were close with some of your club members," he reminded me, twisting that knife of betrayal once again.

"Yeah. I took the only decent ones," I said with a sad smile.

"What's the matter, babe?"

"Just thinking about them. The ones I was so sure about." Grandpa, Pops, Junior, Munch, and Dutch. "Like... what happened after they came back and learned I was out? Did they try to stand up to Chewy? Or did they believe it was the right decision?"

"I think it sounds like Chewy is a vindictive son of a bitch. So, they might have their feelings, but they probably don't feel safe enough to act on them. At least not yet."

That wasn't completely outside the realm of possibilities. I could absolutely see Chewy being a tyrant, demanding loyalty by whatever means he deemed necessary.