Reign (The Henchmen MC 1)

But I also knew Flee was going to have a few more (okay, a lot more) bruises when he finally made it back to my father.

And, somehow, I didn't really even care.

I had a few more bruises too.

Soon after, Lo and Janie left.

I was fed pizza.

And then I fell into bed with Reign. And, for the first time in months, there were no nightmares. There was no fear of being pulled back. There was just peace.

There were just the arms of a man I loved around me.

His heartbeat underneath my ear.

There was just the overpowering, comforting sensation of feeling like I finally found the place I belonged.EpilogueSummer“You're not using a god damn Ak-47, Summer,” Reign said, his tone exasperated. I started to tuck my lower lip out, but he caught on. “And don't you fuckin' dare start poutin' at me.”

I sucked it back in.

“I think I've proven that I am pretty good with a gun,” I objected.

Cash had been bringing me to the Henchmen's target range for weeks and I was almost as good as he was.

“Yeah, babe. A gun. A handgun. You're not touchin' a fuckin' fully automatic weapon, Summer.”

“Well why the hell not?”

Okay. Reign and I fought a lot.

Not just over the big things. Like letting me use really dangerous (but really flipping cool) weapons.

We fought about everything.

Like me going back to work.

Though we usually “compromised”.

And by “compromised” I meant I was browbeat until I agreed to take a job at one of the Henchmen's legitimate businesses so someone could “keep an eye on” me. As if I was constantly under the imminent threat of being kidnapped and tortured again.

I wasn't.

But I was working at a god damn mechanic shop as a receptionist.

Which, if you asked me, was a little bit beneath my eighteen years of private school education and then an Ivy League degree.

But he didn't exactly ask me.

And it wasn't a huge issue. So I didn't push it.

Not like I pushed the issue of keeping me informed of what was going on with the Henchmen. Which was completely against the rules. And it led to the kind of fight that made him drag me out to the shed so we didn't wake up everyone in the compound.

He tried to keep his cool. I persisted.

He yelled. I screamed.

We reached a stalemate.

Then I used naked persuasion.

Needless to say, I got my way.

And I was going to get my way about the damn guns too.

“Look. I live here. Amongst a sea of guns and possible gunfire,” I reasoned, and watched his face go hard. “Wouldn't it be... prudent for me to learn to use all of the guns around here? Just in case?”

“You think it would be prudent for you to learn how to use an AK-47.”

“For safety purposes,” I insisted, playing to his weak spot. He wanted me safe. He didn't really like the idea that anything could ever happen to me again. Even though the nightmares had worn off almost a year ago. And no one had so much as looked my way in months. I was no one. Just Reign's old lady. I wasn't a possible bargaining chip anymore.

“Babe...”

“Oh let the woman use the god damn gun,” a voice broke in. Distantly familiar. A voice I knew, but couldn't place immediately.

Reign and I both turned, him holding the AK-47 he had caught me walking around the grounds with a few minutes ago (hence the fight. To the immense entertainment of the men on guard. And the few who wandered out just to catch the show. Apparently our fights were a source of high amusement. There were even pools in place for people to bet on when the next fight would take place. And who would win.)

“The fuck?” Reign asked, not raising the gun, but his hands twitched.

“Holy crap,” I muttered at the same time.

Because there approaching us, dressed in his usual brand of expensive, perfect suits (this one gray) … was fucking Daniel.

“How'd you get in here?” Reign asked, jerking his head to look at the men at the gate who had their hands up, palms out, saying it was out of their hands.

Daniel gave me an odd smile, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a wallet fold, then flipping it open.

A badge.

A FBI badge.

“No fucking way,” I found myself saying, my head jerking up to his face. “But you let them torture me. You told them to torture me.”

At this, he winced a little. “I was undercover, sweetheart. I had no choice. I tried to keep you as safe as possible. Besides,” he said, smiling a little, “you got to shoot me in the end.”

“Well... that's true,” I mused. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to clear the air. I felt like shit over the whole operation.”

“You were working for V for years,” I said, shaking my head. “I couldn't have possibly been the worst thing you saw.”

“One thing to see things happen. Another to be in on it.”

“Your assignment over?” Reign asked, not caring the least bit that he was butting in.

“Heading to the West coast for a while. Lot of girls coming in that way. That's why I wanted to stop by.”

“Sorry we foiled your operation,” I said, knowing how disappointing it must have been to work for such slime for years and then not be able to drag her in for her crimes.

“Plenty of other scum out there to nab. Just glad V is out of commission. Your father taking good care of her?”

My father had his own mini prison built for her. It was impressive.

He went to visit her every single day.

Reminding her constantly that she was, yet again, under his thumb.

The worst kind of torture.

He was a real bastard when he wanted to be.

“Oh yeah,” I agreed. “All comfy cozy.”

At this, he smiled. “Glad to hear it. You take care of yourself, Summer,” he said, extending his hand to me. I took it. “And as a federal agent, I am not allowed to say this,” he said, then turned his face to Reign, “but let the girl use the gun.”