Cash (The Henchmen MC 2)

“I can't say yet, Malc,” I admitted, knowing better than to even try to lie to him.

He nodded, accepting that, sitting down on a foot locker across from me. “Is it bad?”

I sat down too, looking down at my hands for a moment. Was it bad? It was the worst. It couldn't possibly get any worse.

“Yeah,” I admitted, looking up at his face. He was attractive, unfairly so even at his age, a trait only men seemed to possess.

“Shit.” He sighed. “Should we all be worried?”

“No,” I said, firmly. “It isn't a threat. I am going to make sure it doesn't turn into one.”

“Lo, you know I have immense respect for you. I know you're one of the best out there, darlin',” he said, giving me a charming smile, “but not even you should be wading into bad shit by yourself.”

“I'm not in it alone,” I said, half-lying, not aware I was stroking Janie's locker until Malcom's gaze settled there.

“Jstorm's all over this?” he asked, lips twitching up, revealing his soft spot for her.

Oh, yeah, she was all over it, just not in the way he thought.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

“You two together? You're a kickass team. But I'm not liking two women wading into bad shit alone either. Even two as badass as you two are,” he added when he knew I was about to pounce on him. Sexism simply wasn't acceptable at Hailstorm. We women busted our asses to be taken just as seriously as the men, which often meant we had to work a lot harder than they did, but we earned the right to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with our male counterparts. “Just sayin'... you know...” he added, eyes looking darker, worried.

“I promise if it is looking dangerous, I will bring some men in on this.”

“Good.”

“I am going to be a little... in the wind dealing with this,” I hedged. “I can trust you to hold down the fort?”

“Always, darlin',” he said, tone serious and I knew I could count on him. “I'll go round up the troops and fill them in. The usual.”

“Thanks, Malc,” I said, standing as he did and closing the distance to clamp him on the arm. I wasn't exactly a huggy kind of gal and he wouldn't be comfortable with his leader wrapping her arms around him anyway so it was as close to physical affection as we would get.

“Be safe, Lo,” he said, making it sound less like a plea and more like a command.

“Always. I'll be in touch,” I said, moving out of the barracks and quickly making my way to the line of vehicles we kept for common use.

I didn't pack. I didn't need to. I taught everyone to keep a bugout bag hidden somewhere close and then one far away in case they were ever in the need to get out of dodge. They knew it because I knew it. I had five bugout bags hidden in various places across the country. I never knew if shit would hit the fan in a way that not even the ferocious beast that was Hailstorm could fix. I always needed to be prepared.

I slipped in behind the wheel of a inconspicuous black hatchback and pulled out of Hailstorm with a lead-like sensation in my stomach.

I drove through town, slowing to check out the damage to Chaz's bar, seeing all five of the Mallick men and their father standing out front, arms crossed over their broad chests, looking hot and badass. Every last one of them was a black-haired, blue-eyed potential cover model. They also all looked quite vicious and pissed off as they had whatever kind of family meeting they were having. Out front of The Henchmen compound, bikes were lined up, making it seem like all hands were on deck. They were probably having church in wake of the bombings.

I took a turn out of my way, going up a hill a bit to check out the damage at Lex Keith's place.

It was bad. Whatever bombs Janie placed (and Janie was well known for her bomb work) were placed to cause maximum damage. The gate was blown open, for what, I wasn't sure. She wouldn't have needed to bomb the gates to get in. Was she not working alone? Jesus, did she team up with someone else without filling me in?

“What have you gotten yourself into, Janie?” I asked the car, watching the flames engulf Lex's mansion full of first edition copies of books he had never read and art he didn't understand.

A part of me, granted an ungracious, vengeful, borderline evil part of me, hoped he was slowly burning to death in there. The worst possible death for the worst possible person.

The other part of me, though, was pretty sure it wasn't possible to kill that evil bastard.

I did a quick K-turn and made my way back toward the other end of town, the bad end, the end even hardened gang members were a bit spooked to walk down alone at night. It had been a long, long time since I saw my old safe house.

Thirteen years ago, it was all I had in the world. I bought it with every last penny of stolen money I had on me, a steal really, but it was on the property directly across from a known and violent gang. So at twenty-four and female, it wasn't exactly a 'safe' place to be, but it was safer for me than what I needed to get away from. As time went on and I built up Hailstorm, there was really no reason to keep it aside from nostalgia. I could have made up a safe house anywhere. But I kept it.

I turned up the drive, checking out my mirrors to watch the guys across the street stand up on their stoop and watch me.

Crap.

It had been years. Leaders had likely come and went. New blood didn't recognize old faces. I stopped my car halfway up my drive, popped the trunk, and jumped out with the engine still running. I went to the trunk, trying my best to ignore the beating of my heart, reached in, and dragged out the two biggest guns that were stored inside.