Niro (Henchmen MC Next Generation 1)

I was a bad dog mom to keep Nugget away from him for so long after bringing him to New York with me. I knew enough about animals to know they felt that kind of loss. But life changed so much and so quickly for both myself and Niro. We just didn't cross paths as much as we used to.

His absence was a hole in my soul that I tried to fill with other things. Oftentimes unsuccessfully, even if I would tell myself the superficial friendships I tried to foster were good enough, were just what I needed, that I didn't have the time for soul-level connections anymore.

I wasn't even sure, at this point, when the last time I saw Niro face-to-face was. A year before? At a Christmas party at the biker compound my father and he both belonged to? We'd shared cold, indifferent, chin jerks from across the room. His arm had been slung across the shoulder of a woman in a dress that made me feel constricted in my loose sweater it was so tight, her voluptuous body nearly spilling out in all kinds of enticing ways.

I didn't know Niro's type. He'd never dated much when I'd been in town. But I guess it was of the pin-up variety.

Why that had made my stomach clench when I saw it was beyond me. I was happy he was happy. Right?

Maybe I wasn't because a part of me was sure there was no happiness in his eyes. True, he'd never been the most light-hearted guy around, but I found he often smiled when we were talking, the joy going right up into those dark eyes of his.

There was none of that to be found in the clubhouse.

I should have gone over, asked if he was aright. But that unknown woman with her very nice figure and her very pretty face had stood in the way of me doing so for some reason.

That, and the fact that I felt awkward even thinking of going over there. What kind of conversation starter could you have with someone who used to be your best friend, but wasn't anymore?

Hey, aren't these oatmeal cookies the best?

No.

That wasn't good enough.

Not when trying to talk to someone who had most of my memories in his hands.

But I couldn't quite find the nerve to walk up to him with the words I truly wanted to say.

I'm sorry.

I don't know what happened.

Can we try to go back to how things were before?

What happened to us?

I'd never found those words. Or any words. I had a coward's tongue.

I regretted it often since that day.

Well, I had all the time in the world now to try to reconnect, make amends for my crummy friendship attempts.

At the thought, though, a strange, unsettling, completely unexpected nervousness started to swirl around my belly.

At seeing Niro?

My oldest friend in the whole world?

The one person I told all my shameful little secrets to?

It made no sense.

But there was no denying its existence either.

I was nervous to see Niro again.

It was in the strange weight pressing down on my chest, the tightness around my throat, the pounding of my pulse.

But if I was going home, a reunion was inevitable.

It would be just like old times once we got the distance out of the way.

Right?

Chapter Two

Andi

Navesink Bank was a unique place to grow up. Not because it was, essentially, run by the local mafia, MC, and various other big—or small—time criminal empires. Not because I was part of that underworld since my father was an outlaw biker. Not because all my friends had been the offspring of the various crime lords of the area.

Though all of that added a little extra flair to the town, I was sure, since we were our own sort of community in and of ourselves. It was hard to foster friendships or relationships in the town with people who hadn't grown up with outlaw parents. The other people simply couldn't relate to some of the aspects of our lives. And we could never really share everything with them since it would become a matter of safety and security for our loved ones.

But all that said, Navesink Bank was just such an interesting place.

There were sprawling green lawn mansions on the Navesink River where old money and new mingled in their shared sort of privileged lifestyles. But those rich neighborhoods butted right up to quiet suburbs where everyone had less than a quarter-acre of property that was usually speckled with above-ground pools, trampolines, and swing sets. A place where there were barbecues all summer long, the smell of hotdogs and hamburgers constantly carrying on the wind.

From the middle-class suburbs, you were led into a bustling small town full of mom & pop stores and restaurants.

Lastly, there was the sort of bad area of town that I had never been daring enough to venture around, not even with Niro at my side, knowing it was run by the local street gangs, and believing my father when he told me it was not safe for me to go, not even with the protection of his reputation of a member of the Henchmen MC to shield me.