Cash (The Henchmen MC 2)

I pulled into the parking lot with a weighted feeling in my stomach. True, I wanted to see the fucker hurt. Hell, I wanted to make him hurt again. And I damn sure wanted to see Lo get her payback. But something just didn't feel right. As we climbed out of the car and made our way in through the cracked front window where a pool of water had gathered from the torrential downpour we had had the night before, I tried to convince myself it was only fear for Lo's well being that was making me feel almost queasy.

“You know the code?” she asked as I punched it in, her brows drawn together.

“Leo changed it,” I clarified with a shrug as I pulled the door open. “Need help down?”

Her head snapped to me with what I could only describe as horrified shock. “Not a fucking chance,” she said, like I was an idiot to offer. It was then that I realized sickbed Lo was gone. Hell, she wasn't even normal day-to-day Lo anymore. No, she was Lo, the badass lady boss of Hailstorm and offering her help was insulting. She could handle her own shit, no matter how bad she was hurting, she was going to go in there like she didn't have a care in the world.

Fucking sexy as hell.

“After you,” I said, waving a hand out dramatically and she smiled at me before making her way down the stairs, slow, but steady. She even managed to make it look like she was casually holding the railing instead of using it to help her keep her footing.

“Ah... Cash,” she said when she reached the bottom step. I was several feet above her, the half wall of the ceiling to the floor above still blocking my view.

“Fuck... is he dead already?” I asked, but voice too light. “It's cool. Won't judge you for beating on a corpse.”

“Oh my god. No no no...” she cried out as she moved around the room.

My heart skipped up into my throat as I flew down the last few stairs and took in the scene before me. That scene being... an open fucking ankle cuff and no Damian in sight.

“No fucking way. No fucking way,” I said, looking around helplessly, my fists curling up. “The door was locked. New code, all that shit. No fucking way.”

“There must have been another way out,” she said, almost too calmly and when I turned to face her, she was sitting on the side of the bed, looking down at the floor, her shoulder slumped forward and I knew it was hurting like fuck to sit that way, but I guessed whatever she was feeling was hurting worse so she didn't even register it. “He was smart like that. I didn't have a lot of time to look around but there must have been another way out.” I picked up the ankle cuff, seeing the scratches near the lock and throwing it down in anger. “He used the belt,” she offered.

“What, babe?” I asked carefully, wondering if this was going to be her recounting some of the trauma again. I thought she purged that, crying into my neck as her body shook violently. But maybe that poison buried deep. Maybe she would always need to let it out, little by little.

She sighed loudly and lifted her head to me, waving a hand toward the floor. “To pick the lock. I wasn't able to find the way out, but I had done enough snooping around to know that there was literally nothing in here to use to pick that lock. So he had to use something he had on him.”

“Fuck,” I growled, wanting to hit, kick, smash something. I left him the belt. I was such a fucking moron. Why would I leave the belt?

“It's not your fault, Cash,” she said, her voice suddenly softer, losing all of the badass lady leader and going right back to sweet, soft Lo. “There was so much going on. I was carried out of here. You were worried. The other guys didn't think to secure the area either and I trained them to do that shit. Everyone was all over the place. It's not your fault.”

“He got away,” I said helplessly.

“Yeah, but it's alright. We'll find him eventually. We have all the time in the world to track him down.”

“You shouldn't be so calm about this,” I said, sitting down next to her, my hand landing on her thigh and squeezing.

“I've spent a hell of a lot of time being angry with him, Cash. Honestly, I'm just sick of it now. I want to move on.” She leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder and I heard the words she left unspoken: she wanted to move on... with me.

“But this isn't done, right? We're not going to let this fuck walk, are we?” Honestly, even if she told me that that was exactly what she wanted, no fucking way was I going to let that happen. I'd keep her out of it, keep her blind, but I was going to hunt the bastard down and slaughter him like the animal he was.

“No. This isn't done. But I also just... I don't know. I don't feel the need to be the one to do it, to take him down. You know?”

“Honest, honey, no I don't know.” I still wanted his blood.

“You know he's a war hero, right? He's been honored and all that. He has buddies still in the Marines. They wouldn't let his disappearance go without an investigation. Too much leads back to me and, through me, to you. We can't risk that.”

“You want to bring someone else in on this.”

“It's the smartest option.”

“Wolf would be itching for the job,” I offered.

“Wolf leads back to you who leads back to me. Same problem. It can't be people in our organizations. I know a lot of people who can do contract work like this if...”

“Shooter,” I supplied with a shrug.

“What?” she asked, picking her head up to look at me.