Wolf (The Henchmen MC 3)

But I could tell by the confident way she squared off with the Mallicks and the threatening way she delivered her words, that she had a past of her own. She was, in some shape or form, a badass bitch just like me and Summer and Lo and Alex.

"Baby..." Shane tried, his tone both sweet and sexy at once.

Seemingly completely unaffected though even I was feeling the effects a little, Lea rolled her eyes. "Do you really think you can 'baby' me out of this? Have we met? Hi, I'm Lea and I share your bed and your stupid warehouse apartment, and I put up with you never putting your shoes in the fucking closet. And I never, as in ever, bend just because you turn on the charm. That was for your little chippies before me. That shit has never worked on me."

"And don't I know it," Shane said, sighing dramatically, but he was smiling.

"For the love of God, I'll do it," Eli interrupted for the first time. All eyes swiveled in his direction. He was a little smaller than his brothers, just as tall, but not quite as muscular. He was... scrappy. That would be how Lo would describe him. Smaller and fast, wiry, good in a fight because he could easily out maneuver a bigger guy. "Don't give me that look," Eli said to his father, shaking his head. "We have two women threatening to start their own war and a good man going to jail for killing someone one of us should have taken out five years ago. Time to get involved, Pops, whatever the risks."

Charlie sighed, shaking his head. "Gotta do what you gotta do, E. But be smart."With that, I got my muscle.

As soon as it was dark, it would be time to go get my man.

At this point, I know I wasn't winning any favors with people. I was planning on having one of the very few not-crooked cop's ass kicked. It wasn't that I had no respect for law enforcement. I did, though I found their rampant mistakes and conclusion-jumping absolutely despicable and the amount of innocent men in jail was a statistic I could lay up at night being angry over. But did I like that they, once in a blue moon, dragged in a wife beater and threw the book at them? Sure. Did I like that they showed up at a car wreck and tried to save lives before EMS showed up? Of course.

But, come on, their investigative skills were downright elementary and their holier than thou bullshit was grating to anyone with two braincells to rub together.

Marco couldn't be swayed to accept a bribe or to leave the organizations to handle their business like they had always done. No one had investigated when The Henchmen, Richard Lyon, and Hailstorm took out V the year before. Because anyone with working gray matter realized that we did the world a good deed, taking a heartless skin trader out of the game. Whereas Collings and other members of the force managed to see a lot of gray in life, Marco saw only black and white, only good and bad.

And, well, if it wasn't me and Eli doing it, it would be someone else introducing him to the shades of gray. If he was particularly unlucky, it wouldn't be one of the friendleys. It would be the Italians or the Russians. It would be the Third Street guys. It would be one of the syndicates that didn't just want to scare him, but wanted to annihilate the threat.

Better he learn from me how things went in Navesink Bank than pay for that knowledge with his life.

So that put us in the alley next to Marco's too ritzy apartment in a too nice part of town for a cop salary. Eli gave me a look before he slipped into his gloves and mask. I tied my hair back and brought up my hood, but didn't cover my face. I was going to be standing off in the distance, keeping an eye on things, intervening only if I needed to.

"He drives a Mercedes?" Eli asked quietly as Marco pulled it into his space.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked myself, but out loud.

"Want to fall back till you know?" Eli asked, sounding deflated at the idea.

He hated the violence, but he also craved it. His body was humming with it. If I ventured a guess, afterward, he would be in need of a hard fuck to get the feelings out of his system. Calling him off would be like leaving him with blue balls.

"No. See what he says. Maybe he will give us something to go on. Who knows?"

Eli waited, then in a movement that was so fast I felt vertigo wash over me, he was across the alley and on Marco.

It wasn't what I expected.

It wasn't what Eli expected either.

Marco didn't fight with the predictability of a cop, practiced moves from endless hours of grappling. Marco fought like he was trained on the streets, not at the academy. I felt my heart start to slam beneath my ribcage, frantic as a hummingbird's wings.

Something was off, seriously off.

Fuck.

I didn't vet him.

I just figured he was a stupid, cocky rookie.

And, well, that made me a stupid, cocky, rookie.

I started walking into the alley, wincing when Eli took a hook to the jaw. But his blood lust was thick and he bent at the waist, running into Marco's center like a human battering ram, slamming him up against the wall. Marco's eyes snapped up and I got a good look at him. How had I missed the hollowness in his eyes before?

I watched as Eli finally let go of whatever control he was holding on to. One minute, Marco was still up and fighting, looking almost cocky. The next, he was on the ground and unconscious, Eli still pounding.

"Enough," I said, grabbing his arm before it landed another fist. "I said enough!" I yelled when he didn't immediately back off.