Cash (The Henchmen MC 2)

“Wolf,” I suggested with a shrug. Out of all of us, he would be the one most likely to keep his rage under control. He wasn't an easy fuck to rile. That being said, when he was riled, it took a small army to hold him back.

“Where the fuck is Wolf? Repo asked suddenly, looking around.

Reign and I straightened, looking around. “The fuck?” I asked, not seeing his face. How the fuck had I missed that?

“Did anyone call him?” Reign asked, looking at Repo for the answer.

“Sent out a mass text, man. But you know Wolf, he don't answer for shit.”

That was true too.

“I'll drop over tomorrow after we see the Mallicks. You know him... he takes off into the woods to hunt or fish or some shit and we don't hear from him for days,” I said, shrugging.

“Right,” Reign agreed, nodding his head. “Well, I don't think there's any real threat to any of us individually so you all can go home, but be sharp, keep an eye out, check in. I want you all here by tomorrow afternoon to tell me if you have heard anything. Repo, Vin, Jazz, Shredder,” he said, addressing the men who immediately straightened, “you guys good to stay here and hold shit down?”

“Always,” Repo agreed first. Had he been anyone else, he'd be called a kiss-ass, but being the lethal fuck he was, he was just a loyal brother. Anyone who said any differently would regret the hell out of it.

“Alright,” Reign said, standing. “Stay, drink, fuck, leave, I don't care,” he said, giving his men a sly smile. “I got a woman at home who needs some... comforting.”

With that, he was gone.

A moment later, his bike rumbled off.

“Want us to call some bitches?” Repo asked, sounding about as excited about the idea as I was, meaning, not at all. Usually, I was the one commanding we get some skirts in the clubhouse, but suddenly, I was just bone deep fucking tired. Taking one look at Repo, I saw the same exhaustion. He had, after all, been the one who needed to spring into action, round up the men, assess the grounds for threats, put out a fucking burning shed. He'd had a night. He wanted his bed. And, for once, he wanted it to sleep in. It was exactly what I wanted too.

“You do what you got to do. I got to get some sleep,” I said, nodding at Repo who looked relieved to be able to follow my lead. “I got meetings and shit tomorrow. Don't want to be showing up hungover. This is serious shit.”

The men nodded, but I saw one go right into his phone, hitting digits. No doubt, he was calling bitches. Which was fine. They could have their fun.

I'd had enough excitement for one day.SixLoI didn't even get four feet before I was snatched from behind, hauled off my feet, leaving me peddling air as I tried to reach behind me and claw at his face.

“You fucked up, Willow,” he said close to my ear, sounding like his teeth were clamped together. “All this fucking time, taking careful steps, staying under the radar. You finally, finally fucked up.”

He sounded excited about that fact. Hell, he was excited about that prospect. I knew that because I knew the bastard. I also knew that because I could feel his cock pressing at me through my jeans as I tried to swing my legs up then slam them back into him. My feet met thigh, but not with enough momentum to cause any kind of damage.

It could not be happening.

Fucking, fucking no.

I felt the hysteria rise up, frantic and useless, making my head feel light and my throat feel tight. Every bit of self-defense training, every endless hour spend grappling in that very position just flew out of my head, leaving me clawing at his arms like some pedestrian caught on the street.

“Not even gonna ask where you fucked up, Wills? How unlike you,” he growled, shoving me forward. The side of my face (along with the rest of my body) collided with the wall hard enough for my vision to go white for a second. But I wasn't granted the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness. What I got was a forearm pressed hard against the back of my neck and a hard, unyielding male body pushing mine harder into the wall.

“Let me go,” I said, wishing my voice would come out stronger. “You have no fucking idea what you are doing.”

“Oh, bitch, I know exactly what I am doing,” his voice grumbled as his hand went up under the back of my tee, snaking around my belly, effectively making me wish I could claw the skin off so I could never have to feel his touch on it again. “Been a long, long time. Skin is still so soft,” he said, low, almost seductive. I felt my stomach churn as his fingers toyed with the underside of my bra.

All I could think was: no.

Finding a bit of clarity, my foot slammed down on the top of his and I cocked an elbow, shoving it into his ribs, surprising him enough for his hand to drop from my neck and giving me space to turn. Before he even sucked in his breath, my fist landed true, hitting hard into his nose and I watched in satisfied disgust as blood started pouring out.

“Stupid cunt,” he growled and lunged and I knew I was in for it.

I was trained. I was skilled.

That being said, I was still a woman and no matter how skilled you make yourself, no matter how good you become, you will always have a physical disadvantage against a man well over six-feet and built like a linebacker.

I never subscribed to sexism, but I also knew certain limitations came with my sex.

I just hoped I made it out alive as his arm cocked back and I felt the full force of a grown man's strength catch the side of my jaw, sending me flying. The explosion of pain radiated out from the strike point until the whole side of my face started to throb as I tried to push myself up off the floor, tried to gain my feet and my advantage of wiry quickness. But before I even had my upper body lifted up, his knees were at the sides of my hips, pinning me back down to the floor.