Malcolm (Henchmen MC Next Generation 2)

"Yeah, that would be good," I agreed, even if the reason I wanted morning shift had nothing to do with liking to wake up early, and more to do with the fact that I wanted my nights free to check on Holly.

After that, it was more shit about the Vultures, about what action everyone had seen going on around there.

Then everyone got some drinks, ordered some food.

I was in the middle of talking to Cary about the time he served when my phone started ringing. And since all my biker brothers were here, and I wouldn't be anyone else's emergency contact, I reached for it just to silence it, figuring it was some bullshit robocall.

But then I looked at the screen.

Holly.

I'd never swiped to answer a call so fast in all my life.

"Are you okay?" I asked, holding a finger up to Cary who shrugged.

"Hey, ah, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called," she said, getting ready to hang up.

"No. Wait. What's going on?"

"It's probably nothing," she insisted.

"But?" I asked.

"But there's just... there's this guy," she said, sounding a mix of confused and scared.

"What guy? What's he doing?"

"He's... this is probably me just being paranoid."

"Holly..."

"He pulled into the parking lot about forty-five minutes ago. And he's sitting there and he's... he keeps holding up his phone. I'm probably just being paranoid, but I feel like he might be taking pictures of me. I know that sounds stupid. Like I said, I think I'm just paranoid."

"Are you alone?"

"What?"

"Are you alone?"

"No, Don is here."

"Yeah, well, Don is useless. Are there any customers?"

"One table left. They are wrapping it up."

"Okay. I'm on my way."

"What? No. I'm sorry I called. I know you're in church. I'm okay."

"I'm on my way," I repeated, giving Cary a nod before moving out the back door. "If that table leaves, and this guy makes his way in finally, go and lock yourself in the bathroom."

"Malcolm..."

"Holly, if he comes in, lock yourself in the bathroom."

"Okay."

"I'm ten minutes away, okay?"

"I'm sure it's nothing."

"Trust your gut, honey. If it feels wrong, it probably is."

"Okay," she agreed, letting out a shaky breath.

"You want to stay on the phone until I get there?"

"I have to get back to my table."

"Okay," I agreed, hopping on my bike.

"Hey, Malcolm?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," she said, before hanging up.

It was as I tucked my phone away and made my way out of the clubhouse that I had a completely irrational thought.

She didn't have to thank me. I would do anything that woman needed me to do.

Chapter Six

Holly

It was silly.

I was sure it was silly.

I was just frazzled and in pain and looking at everyone sideways because there was no way of knowing who had attacked me, so I was making villains out of everyday people.

It would pass.

I was sure that once the pain was gone, I would be able to calm down more. But when every move I made caused some sort of shooting or throbbing pain, it was difficult to think the best of anyone.

Especially when I was pretty sure the guy in the red truck was taking pictures.

But it was probably not of me.

How vain was it to think he might have been?

Maybe Luis had someone out to check out the property to have some work done. Hell, maybe he was going to put up actual, functioning cameras.

Alright, that was a little hard to believe. Any situation that hinged on my boss being a decent human being was pretty unlikely.

But there were reasons he could have been there taking pictures that had absolutely nothing to do with me.

Then I'd gone ahead and been even more over-reactive by calling Malcolm. Who'd already done too much for me. Who wasn't responsible for my protection. Who I had no business calling for help.

What was wrong with me?

"Taking a smoke break," Don declared since no new tables had come in.

Dread bubbled up in my stomach as I watched him walk out the door, knowing my table was close to getting up and leaving too.

Taking a deep breath, I went ahead and moved closer to the restrooms. Just in case. Even though I was trying to remind myself how ridiculous I was being.

There were so many other things I could be worrying about that had nothing to do with halfway suspicious guys in the parking lot.

Like Shep's mood taking a steep downturn ever since my attack. Not at me. Not lashing out or anything. But I was starting to really worry that depression was setting in because he couldn't be there for me the way I'd been there for him.

And because of that, I'd noticed he was slacking with his at-home physical therapy. If he didn't keep up with that, he was never going to be able to regain his strength and flexibility. Which was a terrifying thought. Because he would need both those things if he was ever going to work again.