Lazarus (The Henchmen MC 7)

That being said, I couldn't think of a single goddamn criminal who drove a mid-range BMW. Henchmen had bikes and SUVs. Hailstorm had SUVs exclusively. Third Street had whatever clunkers they could afford. Lyon drove something that cost more than most earned in a year. So did the Grassis. Breaker had a truck. Shooter had some expensive as all shit sports car. The Mallicks all had trucks, bikes, SUVs.

Suit guys drove BMWs.

Doctors and lawyers and dentists.

Stiffs.

Not criminals.

But what kind of trouble could she possibly find herself in with some businessman of some sort?

I didn't have the slightest idea.

But I intended to find out.

The street off of where Sawyer Investigations was located looked nothing like you'd expect from one street behind mostly modern and upkept businesses. It was a small one and a half lane road with cars lining one side so the other could be used for traffic. It ended abruptly in front of a shingled two floor apartment building that couldn't have had more than eight units total. The other apartment building was on the same lot as the first, like it was part of the same but set back and at a corner. The duplexes that lined both sides were falling into disrepair with broken gutters, chipping paint, and piles of crap piled around.

We filed out of our respective vehicles, sharing a look then, without even a discussion, split on either side of the street and started knocking.

I didn't expect much of the duplexes, something deep inside me saying that she was in one of the apartment buildings. So when we reached them, Lo, Janie, and Alex moved toward the first one and Reeve and I walked the short distance to the second.

"I know you're worried about your girl," Reeve said, the first words out of his mouth since the phone call in the early hours of the morning, "but you have considered the world of shit you might be getting into, right?" My leg muscles seized, refusing to move forward until I turned back to him, taking a threatening step toward him. "Not saying you shouldn't involve yourself in it." His hands lifted in a peace gesture. "I'm saying you need to keep your head on straight and realize what this could mean. And," he added, brow lifting, "let Reign and the rest of the club in on it or else you might save your girl and cause yourself a world of trouble."

He wasn't wrong.

"I'll fill them in when I know what I am up against and that she's okay."

"We." I had turned away again, only to turn back, brows lowered.

"We?"

"Not what you're up against," he explained. "What we are up against. That's how this works, remember?"

It was easy, honest to God, at times to forget.

I never had that kind of support system in my life. Sure, I had my mom and there was no fiercer champion to be had, no one who wanted my success and happiness as much as I wanted it. But she was all I had. No one else was close. My father barely existed. Once she was gone, I had who? Ransom? Someone who kept me high and used me like a meat waved in the face of a tiger to get it to do what you want.

In Navesink Bank, in my new life, I had Ross Ward- a friendship that grew out of necessity a bit on both our parts then became something with roots, something I knew I could rely on. That being said, I wouldn't call Ross if shit hit the fan with my girl and I needed to handle a situation.

I wouldn't expect him to fall into step beside me.

But The Henchmen didn't operate that way.

Their loyalty came with conditions. Namely, the understanding that nothing was just about you anymore. Everything was about the collective well-being. If one brother had a problem, if it was affecting him, then the whole organization had a problem and was affected by it.

That was just how it was.

But it had only been a few months compared to years of not having that.

"Just a reminder."

"One I needed," I agreed with a nod.

Then, accepting the heart-to-heart was over, we both turned away and got to work knocking on doors- him on the first floor, me on the second.

I stepped out of the elevator into the upstairs hall, the yellow and brown wallpaper peeling in spots, but the floor cleaner than the halls in my building. There were two muddy brown colored doors on each side with copper letters, each hanging haphazardly, one completely missing. The overhead lighting was all out.

Every one of them but the one at the end of the hall in front of the door to the left.

And I swear to fuck it was a sign.

I ignored the other three doors, hearing televisions talking, music blaring, smelling food cooking- something spicy, making my nose crinkle up and my stomach let out a bellow at its forgotten emptiness.