"Why didn't you offer it to her then?" I asked, silently agreeing that she was, in fact, pretty fucking awesome, but figuring that did not need repeating; it was self-evident.
Lo's face went a little guarded, something that wasn't exactly uncommon, but made it clear that you weren't going to get dick from her. Not even Roan, with his sordid, dark history of extracting information, could even get her to spill when she didn't want to.
"I have a feeling that Lenny has her own business she needs to handle before I can even think of asking her. I doubt she would appreciate any distractions right now."
Interesting.
She picked up on it too.
My first thoughts about Lenny were that she was readying herself for something; it was good to know my brain wasn't running away with itself. If Lo saw what I saw, then it was a pretty good bet that Lenny had some shit going on that she wasn't willing to talk about with anyone.
It didn't take a genius to know that if it involved the most intensive training schedule known to man, that taught her all the ways to stave off an attack, or to instigate one, that whatever she had going on was going to involve bloody violence.
I found the idea both intriguing and more than a small bit worrisome.
Maybe that would seem odd given how short a time we had known each other, but this wasn't anything new for me. Before The Henchmen, my life was focusing on women who had the odds set against them. I worried about them all, even complete strangers.
So this wasn't too soon for me.
And Lenny had an advantage over most women I had known. Hell, most women in the world. But that didn't mean there weren't risks. That didn't mean there wasn't a chance for things to go badly, for the other party to be more trained, better capable of getting one over on her, no matter how much she had hardened herself.
And while I knew it wasn't my business, I wanted to find out what her shit was, and see if I could help with it at all.
She wouldn't want that, I knew.
She was too standoffish to open up, let alone invite in outside hands for help.
But that didn't mean I couldn't try to do some figuring shit out on my own. Not to pry, but to protect her, to be backup if she ended up needing it. If she didn't, great, then she would never have to know that I looked into the situation. But if she did, then I would deal with the consequences of her anger, knowing damn well that at least her rage at me meant that she was safe, that I had protected her from the worst possible end result of the situation.
So that was the plan.
After I went over there and we both got to see if our chemistry was as explosive as it felt.
"She's going to try her best to push you away," Lo seemed to pick up on my interest in Lenny that was clearly more than just sex.
"I figure," I agreed, seeing no reason to lie to Lo.
"You don't seem like a man who gets pushed around easily."
My lips curved up a little at that. "I'm not."
"And you'll make sure she isn't in too far over her head."
It wasn't a question. But I agreed anyway.
"That's the plan. From a distance."
"Well then, Edison," she said, giving me a nod of approval even though Lenny wasn't technically one of her Hailstorm women, and she didn't exactly need to give me her approval, "go get your girl."
A few hours later, after the birthday girl had been carried off to their room over Reign's shoulder, giggling like a schoolgirl the whole time which, in turn, gave Reign a smile too. Everything about him seemed more relaxed than it had been in about a year, since he had started to be seriously worried about his wife.
"I'm out," I told the only two left in the common room who weren't surrounded by chicks - Roan and Reeve.
And they both sent me a shared look, one of both understanding and, somehow, grief. I did, as a rule, mind my own business. Their paths weren't mine to drudge up and parade before them. But in rare moments, you didn't even have to; you could see it all plain as day on their faces.
"Have fun," Reeve recovered first, but his voice held steeliness in it.
"We'll make sure the kids don't burn the fucking place down," Roan added, giving me a nod, already looking off into the distance.
With nothing left to say, I gave them a chin lift, and headed off to my bike.
I got to her apartment at two-forty, sharing a hard, assessing look with the current leader of Third Street before tearing up the stairs where this time I did see a hooker and her John. But not engaging in a blowjob. Oh, no. They were straight-up fucking right there in the stairwell, the woman's body half-tilted over the railing, her tits spilling everywhere. It didn't escape me that her pupils were pinpricks. Doped up hookers. Not a new story, but still a sad one.