Reign (The Henchmen MC 1)

Then the worry set in.

Worry about Cash. And Vin. But mostly Reign.

What was he going to think when he got a call from Cash saying I was gone and two of his men (technically one of his men, and one traitor, but he wouldn't know that) were busted up?

I couldn't imagine how that would make him feel.

Because he would think V had me again.

He would want to storm in there looking for me.

I couldn't let that happen.

I had to do something.

I rushed out into my bedroom, full of possible ideas. Because I had no phone numbers. Not Reign's or Cash's. Not the compound's. Not Reign's house. I had no one to call. But I was sure I could find some way. Call information. Go do a quick search online and find something. There had to be a way to contact them.

Then I froze as I reached for the phone. The pretty, white replica of an antique rotary phone.

Because the phone wasn't there.

It wasn't there.

My heart immediately started thudding, the swirling feeling in my stomach instantly telling me something was wrong. I couldn't say what, but something was wrong. Something was off.

I turned, moving toward my television cabinet, intent on dragging out my laptop for a search. But when I opened it, the laptop was gone. The laptop. And the TV. And the DVD player.

The swirling turned into a solid lead sensation in my stomach.

I glanced around, my throat feeling tight. Looking for anything else that was wrong. Out of place. Missing.

I went to the windows, pulling the lock on top, then trying to haul them up. But they didn't budge. Not one of them.

Heart in my throat, I walked slowly toward the door to the hallway, already knowing. But I reached for the handle and tried to turn it. Tried. Because it was locked. From the outside.

I backed away like it would burst open at any moment, feeling sick. Sick. I felt like I was going to throw up all over my own feet.

I was trapped.

My father had me trapped.

I looked over my shoulder into the bathroom, seeing my boots laying there discarded and I flew at them, shoving my feet in, lacing them loosely. Giving me a gap to slip my hand in and grab my gun if I needed it.

I sat back down on the ottoman.

What. The. Actual. Hell. Was. Going. On?

There was a soft tap at my door a few minutes later and I rushed to my feet. I caught my reflection in the mirror, seeing the wide eyes, seeing the shock and alarm.

I needed to tramp it down. I needed to play it cool. I didn't know what the fuck was going on, but whatever it was was not good. And I needed to act like I had no idea about the missing phone and laptop. The locked doors and windows.

For all my father knew, I was happy to be home. Relieved. Thankful.

He couldn't know I was freaking out.

And he damn well couldn't know about a gun tucked into my boot.

“Baby girl?” he called, opening the door.

“Coming,” I called, sounding cheerful as I walked into the bedroom. “Sorry... I got carried away. It's been so long since I had... my stuff.”

He gave me a smile. “You look much better. All that black,” he said, shaking his head. His gaze went quickly over my outfit and landed on my feet, a brow raising.

“They're comfortable,” I offered. “I, ah, had some nasty cuts on my ankles.” Not entirely untrue, though it was several weeks before. “These don't hurt.”

His eyes got sad and I knew I said the right thing.

“Come on, honey,” he said, holding out an arm for me to step into. “Let's go get you some good food.”

I gave him a small smile, every bit of energy going into not trying to run the fuck away from him. Because something was wrong. Something was off about him. I couldn't put a finger on it. But it was there.

“Coffee?” he asked, already grabbing a cup and pouring for me.

“Yes, please.” I needed every bit of energy I could get. That being said, I watched every movement his hands made. But he didn't do anything to my drink. I took it and sipped, enjoying the kick it made to my system.

“Darling girl,” he said, standing across from where I was sitting at the enormous kitchen island.

“Dad... where's Mae?” I asked, looking around. I don't think there had ever been a time in my entire life that I went into his kitchen and she wasn't there. Cooking, cleaning, looking over recipes, writing letters to her family.

Her missing was another huge red flag.

“Oh,” he said, looking around. “Her daughter is getting married,” he supplied with a shrug.

Yeah. Right.

Her daughter was a thirty-five year old virgin with an attitude problem and a hatred of all things masculine.

“Oh, good for her,” I said, smiling.

“You seem... worried,” he said, his blue eyes watching me. Keen. I had never known he was so observant before.

“Sorry Dad, I've... it's been a really bad couple of months.”

At that, his face fell.

Fell.

With genuine sadness.

“Summer if you want...”

“I don't,” I said immediately. “I just... it's too soon. I'm just happy to be here. Away from it all.”

“Thank god I found you,” he said, nodding at me.

“I knew you would,” I said, giving him a smile. “The whole time... while things were... bad... I just kept thinking that you would save me from it all.”

“Of course. I was never going to stop until I got you back,” he said. “I've taken... precautions to ensure you stay safe this time,” he supplied.

“Precautions?”

He nodded. “I've hired more men like Lee to keep an eye on the property. I've had your windows sealed so no one can get in that way. I've had your doors locked.”

I couldn't help it.

I really tried to keep my mouth shut.

I just couldn't.

“From the outside?” I asked, my tone sharp, watching him.

And it was good that I was watching so hard. Because if I hadn't been, I would have missed it. It was there and then gone faster than a blink. But it was there. And I saw it. A darkness. A hardness. A side of my father I hadn't known had existed. All my life he had been good. Over protective. Kind. Worried. Perhaps a bit stern about my life choices, but always out of kindness. Out of fatherly concern.