Malcolm (Henchmen MC Next Generation 2)

"Is he okay?" she asked, lower lip wobbling a bit, still not over the argument the night before.

"Yeah. Ready to get out of there. I imagine he's spent a lot of time in the hospital. He's sick of it."

"Yeah, that's true. I need to get him something to wear. I need something to wear," she added, looking down at the tee and leggings I'd borrowed from Niro's girl, Andi.

"It's all being handled," I told her, having already texted the girls about the situation. We would be invaded in a few hours. And between all the girls, they would get all Holly's essentials handled. Plus some fun stuff. Which, for Billie, likely meant vibrators and tantric sex brochures.

"What? No. I can't ask—" she started.

"It's done," Fallon said, cutting her off. "Don't worry about it," he added, shrugging.

"Is it a, ah, club thing?" she asked, looking between Fallon and me. "The whole not letting me finish my sentences thing," she clarified.

To that, Fallon gave her a small smile. "Only when you're being stubborn about stupid shit, Holls."

"It's not stupid shit," she insisted, making a smile tug at my lips because she so rarely cursed. "You've already done—"

"The bare minimum," Fallon cut her off. "Yeah, we have," he agreed. "Now we're gonna build on that," he added, making his way toward the doorway. "Dezi, make yourself fucking useful for five minutes, will you?" he asked.

"This is your fault," Dezi declared, shooting me daggers then a smirk. "Sending all the work horses off on errands, leaving me here to have to actually do some manual labor. It's fucked up, man," he said, clicking his tongue at me as he moved out into the main area.

"I feel like this can't be real. That these people can't be real," Holly said, looking at me with drawn-together brows.

"We're a family here, honey," I said as I turned her, hands sinking into her hips, and hauling her up onto the counter. "Now you're part of it. And Shep too, by extension."

"Is he mad about coming here?"

"Not at all. He was in good spirits today. You'll see. What's the matter?" I asked, running a finger over her pouty lower lip.

"I don't have a work uniform," she told me, shaking her head. "I know that is such a stupid thing to think about now. But Luis is a jerk. He is going to pitch a fit when I tell him. And what am I supposed to wear to my shift?"

"You're not going to work today, honey."

"I have to go to work today," she insisted. "How am I ever going to go about paying you back for all of this?" she asked, waving a hand around helplessly.

"Okay, first of all, take a deep breath," I demanded. Her words were getting tight and squeaky, evidence of her growing anxiety. "Good. Second, you don't owe me shit. This isn't a debt. This is me taking care of you. It's a big difference."

"But the food, the clothes, the..."

"I have money," I said, shrugging it off. "It isn't hurting my bottom line. So don't worry about it."

"But still," she said, her head ducking. "I need to work. I need to get us somewhere to live. And these medical bills..."

"Shep has homeowner's insurance. He is going to get somewhere to live." He was. She was going to be living with me. But I didn't feel like it was the time to start insisting on shit like that. "The bills are a next year problem," I told her. "Don't ruin today with them. And I'm not saying you are never going back to work," I said, silently adding at least not yet. "I'm just saying you deserve a day off after this shit. I will handle Luis. Don't worry about it."

"You don't understand. We're short-staffed. Zara is already pulling doubles. There's no one to cover."

"Then the diner will have to close for one night. Or Luis can slip his ass into one of the ugly dresses, and serve his customers his fucking self."

To that, she let out a high-pitched giggle. "Oh, that mental image," she explained.

"I'm just saying, if his business model falls apart because one employee needs a day off after a traumatic event, then it deserves to fall apart. But it will all shake out. He's not going to fire you."

"Because you're going to threaten him?" she asked, not sounding averse to the concept.

"Figure Dezi might have some fun with it," I told her. "I'd rather be here with you."

"I'm okay," she told me, giving me a nod. "I mean I'm a little messy up in my head," she admitted. "But my body is fine. Well, my butt is bruised."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, feeling a smile tug at my lips. "That sounds like something I should really be checking on for you. You know... for medical reasons."