Camden (The Henchmen MC 18)

"Well, let's see," I started, feeling my anger - not a common feeling toward people I had never met - rise up. But if I was right, this was Renny. Who had a habit of pushing buttons. "There is your woman. And Cyrus' and Reeve's and Sugar's and Adler's and Virgin's and Roan's. I guess, technically, Edison's too. Am I missing anyone?" I asked, looking at Reign.

"Ah, dunno, babe. Think you might have covered it."

"So, see, it's almost half and half. Just because you're in the slight minority doesn't mean you can look down on everyone else."

To that, Renny's lips curved upward. "I like you."

"I wish I could say the feeling was mutual," I told him honestly, hearing Reign try to hold in a snorting laugh. West didn't even try to hide it.

"I might grow on you," Renny added, nothing but charm now. But I couldn't seem to swing between my emotions quite so quickly.

"I imagine crazier things have happened."

"Where'd you find this one?" Renny asked, directed at Cam. Even though I knew it was rhetorical, I couldn't help but bristle at that too. Since they knew he didn't speak, knew he wouldn't answer.

"Across the hall," I told them, lifting my chin a bit, something that spoke of self-assurance even though my insides were starting to feel wobbly.

"Anyway," Reign interjected. "In what way aren't things handled, babe?"

"Well, ah, he found me. But Thomas is MIA still. Don't worry, he will re-find me. Is re-find a word? Probably not. Anyway. He will. He always does. But, um, Cam was... well, Cam and I were wondering if maybe, you know, I could - and this is totally not a big deal if you don't like it - but if I could maybe crash here for a while? You don't have to like... answer now. If you need to think about it. And, really, no hard feelings if it's a no. That's totally fine. We were just thinking it might be the safest place for me. For a short while. But it's totally not a big deal if it's not okay."

I was almost out of breath.

"That was a lot of knee-capping," Renny observed. And, well, I couldn't even small-eye him since it was very much the truth. I wasn't good at asking people for anything. So when I did it, there were always outs for them and the reassurance that I didn't really need it. Even if I genuinely did. I think it was a habit I picked up from my mom.

"Pretty Girl," West called, moving in at my side. "How about I show you the kitchen while Cam and Reign here go over some things. You look like you've missed a few meals," he added, reaching for my hand, taking it in his like we were old friends, then swinging it in the air between our bodies like a couple of kids.

This was the side of him that everyone loved so much that it made the pranks and word-vomit rudeness tolerable.

"Is Renny going to hate me now?" I asked as West went about brewing a pot of coffee.

"Nah. He just doesn't always make a good first impression. He's who you want on your side if you are feeling like shit, though. He's got a good ear and decent advice. Except when he tells me violence isn't the answer. Because, clearly, he is completely wrong on that."

"Violence doesn't really solve anything," I suggested, knowing that phrase from my childhood as well.

"Pretty Girl," he said, turning back with the exaggerated patience of a parent explaining something to a child for the umpteenth time, "Violence is the only thing that permanently solves any-fucking-thing."

"That seems a little cynical, no?"

"Well, how do you think Cam is going to handle this Thomas guy when he finds him, sweets? He's not going to sit him down over tea and carefully explain why stalking is wrong."

That was true.

I guess a part of me had been blocking all that out. What was going to happen to make Thomas stop seeking me out, stop obsessing over me, let the past go.

Maybe because I knew violence would need to be involved.

"Don't look so horrified. It makes those dark circles more prominent," he added, making a laugh choke out of me. West in stories was very much like West in person. Sweetness and sarcasm and a little chaser of inappropriate comments. "What is the look for? Because you don't want this Thomas dick hurt, or because you don't want Cam doing the hurting?"

"I don't... I mean... I don't wish pain on anyone," I admitted. I wished there was a way that pain didn't need to be involved.

"But you understand that sometimes it is the only way?"

"I mean... I guess. Sometimes."

"So, it's about Cam."

"Maybe."

"Look," he said, reaching in a cabinet to produce some sort of syrup, putting some into the coffee cup I assumed was mine before reaching for milk, then stirring. He didn't speak again until he pressed the mug into my hands. "Just because someone is good at violence - or even enjoys it - doesn't mean they're a bad person. This club is full of men who thrive on violence when a situation calls for it."