Cary (Henchmen MC Next Generation 5)

The princesses were good with just… pulling the new girls into the fold. You got wrapped up in the whirlwind of them. And, soon enough, you were one of them.

Abigail could use some badass, strong women in her life. I figured that maybe it would help her slowly start to realize her own worth and her own strength.

Not half an hour later, there was a clatter on the floor below, sets of shoes on the creaky stairs.

Across from me, Abs tensed a bit, clearly feeling a little out of her element, not sure what to expect from these strange women.

It was Layna who burst in first, carrying two boxes of pizza and a six-pack of soda.

Layna was willowy like her mom—Lenny—with these big, gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes that were surrounded by long, lush lashes that most people could only have if they got fake ones glued on. Her face was soft and round, very hyper-feminine. She offset that hyper-femininity with almost masculine clothing—jeans that were neither loose nor tight, a cream-colored tank, a brown leather jacket that was creased with age, and matching brown combat boots.

“How’d you get pizza that fast?” I asked, shaking my head.

To that, Layna’s lips twitched.

“It helps when you take a mafia dude to the cleaners at a poker game. And that said mafia dude owns a string of pizza places.”

“You’d think Lucky would put your order to the back of the list for taking all his money.”

“I gave him his watch back with the agreement that I get priority when I place a pizza order. So, you’re my protection detail,” she said, glancing over at Abigail who seemed to actively be trying to make herself appear smaller.

“You’re in good hands. I am armed and very, very sick of the male species, so I would be quite happy to stick a bullet—or fifty—in one should they show up with bad intentions. Honestly, even if they just say hello the wrong way. That’s the point I’m at with his kind,” she said, shooting small eyes at me. “I’m Layna,” she said as she put the pizza and soda down on the stove and counter.

“Abigail,” Abs said, giving her a wobbly smile.

“Shit’s about to get loud and weird in here,” Layna warned. “That’s Vi,” she said as we heard more footsteps on the stairs.

“How do you know?” Abigail asked.

“Vi takes her time. Hope charges. You get used to shit like that when you grew up with them. Hey, bitch. Nice eye,” she added when Vi walked in sporting a shiner around her honey-brown eye.

Vi, like Layna, was tall and long-legged. She had a soft face with a cleft chin and strong brows.

“Can you believe this shit?” Vi grumbled, waving up at her face. “I’ve taken down mountain-sized men without a scratch. But some scrawny-ass nineteen-year-old with a mullet and a pathetic excuse for a mustache did this?”

“Did his face accidentally collide with the doorjamb of the car when you hauled him in?” Layna asked.

“No, but the ground must have reached up and grabbed him, sending him face-first into a gravel driveway.”

“Good girl. Alright, go,” Layna said, shooing me. “We have it from here.”

And, well, they did.

I noticed on my way out that not only was Layna strapped, but Vi had a gun under her jacket as well as one in an ankle holster.

Hope, when she arrived, would be armed as well.

“Don’t leave, okay?” I asked, looking at Vi, trying to get her to see how serious I was about it.

“Yeah yeah yeah. Get.”

So, yeah, I got going.

I was pulling away from the curb when I saw Hope’s car pull up and park.

She was in good hands.

Great ones, even.

Still, I was uncharacteristically anxious as I sat through the church meeting, listening to everyone’s assignments, getting the details about a new, valuable shipment coming into the port in a couple days.

Luckily for me, Brooks—whoever had likely worked out the schedule—only put me on a guard shift for a few hours near the end of the week.

Brooks wasn’t known for being accommodating. He was strict about the rules, about everyone needing to pull their own weight. So I felt like it said something about his opinion of me that he let me have a bit of a break to spend my time on Abigail’s issue.

Which, admittedly, I’d barely given any thought to. I’d been too wrapped up with her general wellbeing, with getting her settled, with trying to work through my increasingly complicated feelings toward her.

“Hey, yo, Cary,” Niro called, making me turn back to face him.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Fallon was telling me about your situation with your girl. That still going on?”

“I’ve barely had a chance to get her settled, let alone figure out how to fix the problem,” I admitted with a shrug.

“I might have a suggestion for that,” Niro said, leading me over to the bar. “So, don’t remember if you were around for it, or if you remember it. I swear to fuck, it is a new disaster every couple months around here. But, yeah, back when Andi first came home, she’d accidentally gotten herself wrapped up with a new cartel that moved into town,” he told me, recapping what had been a complicated situation a while back.