Reign (The Henchmen MC 1)

I drew a shaky breath, my hand moving up into his hair. “I'll miss you,” I admitted quietly.

He pushed up to look down at me, a slow, lazy grin on his face. “Yeah you will.”--“Open up, Cherry,” Cash demanded.

He had a key. I knew he had a key. But he didn't use it. No matter that I hadn't stepped out of Reign's room in two days and he was worried, he still didn't open it on me.

“Leave me alone,” I said, rolling over in bed.

“I have a present for you.”

Well.

He certainly knew how to get a girl's attention.

“What kind of present?” I asked, already sitting up.

“Open the door and see.”

Augh.

The things a girl would do to get a surprise.

I climbed off the bed, unlocking the door, and drawing it open.

And there was Cash, charming smile on his face, looking fresh as a daisy at seven (yes... SEVEN) in the morning. “Nice bed head,” he said, grinning harder.

“Shut up and give me my present,” I said, lowering my eyes at him which only served to make him chuckle.

He moved into the room, leaving me to follow behind, eyeing the bag in his hand. He sat down at the foot of the bed. “This present comes with a condition.”

Of course it did.

“What condition?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You come out and eat something,” he said simply.

At the mention of food, my belly did a small grumble. Cash refused to bring food up to my room and I refused to go out. We were at a standoff.

“Reign is pretty pissed you aren't eating.”

“You talked to him?” I asked, cringing at the neediness in my voice.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I talk to him every day he's on a run. He checks in on things around here.”

“Right,” I said, sighing. “Fine. I'll go down. Just for breakfast,” I clarified.

“Alright, I'll take it,” he said, putting the bag down and reaching inside. “As much as you like those hideous flats you've been wearing around,” he said, nodding toward the pair of black ballet flats he had brought me on my second day at the compound, “Henchmen bitches wear these,” he informed me, pulling out a pair of badass leather combat boots.

Alright. I had always been a girly girl. I had a closet full of pricey heels. And I mean... heels. Ankle breakingly high and thin. I wore them like I was born to. Day and night.

But the boots in his hands filled me with a surge of something I could only describe as excitement. I held out 'gimme' hands and he smiled, handing them to me. I reached down, slipping into them, tying them loosely, and admiring them. “What do you think?”

“Some black jeans and a nice cut and you'd fit right in, baby,” he agreed, nodding.

I'd fit right in.

I felt a thrill.

Because, I realized with blinding clarity, I wanted to fit in with them. With Reign's men and women. I wanted to be a part of their life.

Fuck.

I wanted to be a part of Reign's life.

In a sort of permanent way.

Which was crazy.

“Uh oh,” Cash said, watching me. “Your happy scale went from an eleven to a zero pretty fast. What's up?”

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging it off.

“Nuh uh. Ain't getting' off that easy. What's up?”

I let out a loud sigh, sitting down at the foot of the bed with him. “I miss Reign,” I admitted.

“I can tell. Not many women take to their bed in nineteen-fifties dramatics over guys they don't miss.”

“I'm that obvious, huh?”

“Yep,” he agreed, not bothering to stroke my pride. I liked that about him.

“Why don't you run a brush through that hair and we'll go get you some coffee and food?” he suggested, nodding his head toward the bathroom.

I got up, nodding, making my way inside and locking it.

He was right. I was being obvious. Painfully so.

And it was pathetic.

And it was beneath me.

If I wanted to fit in, if I wanted Reign to maybe, just maybe, accept me as one of his people, I needed to start acting like it. Not like some silly heartsick girl. I needed to go out there and get to know some of his men, incorporate myself into their lifestyle.

Maybe he wouldn't disappear me.

Maybe when things blew over with V... maybe I could stay.

I ran a brush through my hair, pulling it into a ponytail, brushed my teeth, and went to my pile of folded clothes. Courtesy of one of the “club bitches” who showed up to strip the bed and take any laundry down and do it. Like... it was her job or something.

I slipped into a fresh pair of black yoga pants and the black tee. I reached for the sweater, unraveling it.

And there was the gun.

I don't know what made me do it, but I grabbed it, making sure the safety was on, and slipped it into my boot. After I loosened the laces, there was plenty of room.

I trusted Cash. I knew he was capable of protecting me, but a part of me was getting a little sick of relying on others to take care of me. At least if I had the gun, I would feel like I could handle myself. No matter what.

“Alright,” I said, moving into the bedroom. “Feed me.”–I was sitting in the lounge area of the compound, watching some god-awful action movie on the television. Lots of explosions and blood and cursing. On the couch beside me was Vin who had taken it upon himself to be my personal Henchmen guide for the past three days.

That made a total of five days.

Five days.

He had been gone five days.

I still hadn't heard from him

Cash did.

When I asked what was going on, I got a oddly guarded face and, “Shit happens,” as an answer.

Lets just say that didn't inspire the warm and tinglies in me.

I was worried freaking sick.

“Hey, Summer,” Flee, on of the probates (Vin taught me that meant they were perspective members, but weren't 'patched-in' yet and therefore had the menial jobs. Like walking the grounds) came in the back door, tall with stringy blonde haired, on the ugly side, but he had a nice, smooth voice.