Wolf (The Henchmen MC 3)

"What's the coin for?" I asked instead.

"Falls, you're jerking."

My brows drew together, but I squeezed the trigger. And, like he expected, the coin went flying. "Damn it," I growled as he bent to pick it up.

He placed it again, but this time his hand curled around mine, his finger pressing into mine on the trigger. "Slow," he said, his finger pressing into mine gently. Then, incredibly, the shot fired and the coin stayed in place... and the bullet lodged just outside the bullseye.

"No way!" I yelped, swinging around to face him. "No way is it that easy! I've been working on this every day for years." Wolf shrugged a shoulder, tucking his hands into his pockets, giving me the slightest hint of a smile.

"You try," he said, jerking his head to the target.

I fished the coin off the ground, got back into position, took his advice, and shot. And damn if it didn't land in almost the exact same spot. "Who taught you that?" I demanded, facing him again. Wolf considered me for a long minute, taking in my excitement and surprise, before letting out a long breath.

"Dad."

Well, that made sense. His dad was a Henchmen. I heard Reign's father ran a tight ship. Of course he would teach his men how to shoot. "Are you the best shot in The Henchmen?" I asked into the silence that was starting to feel heavy.

At that, I got a smirk. A actual, real smirk! "No," he said, shaking his head.

"Top five?" I pressed. I got a nod to that. "Who is first?"

"Repo," he answered instantly.

Repo was a relatively new recruit. He was patched in just a year before, right after he helped save Summer and gained Reign's favor. "No way. He's like... twenty-one."

"Four," Wolf corrected. "Your age," he added, surprising me. How did he know how old I was?

"Still..."

"Didn't teach him," he shrugged. So he was just a natural shot? That was interesting. He un-tucked a hand from his pocket and waved to the targets. "Impress me," he suggested and, well, I was always up for a challenge."Take that!" I declared, throwing my arms up in the air when, an hour later, I had finally landed a bullseye on the furthest target. I turned a huge smile in Wolf's direction, full of the pride of accomplishment that I owed at least in part to him. His eyes searched my face, landing on my mouth for a moment and I watched as his face seemed to slowly start to shut down again. "Don't," I commanded immediately.

"Don't what?"

"Don't shut down," I demanded. I saw his immediate head shake and did something I never did: begged, "Please."

His head tilted to the side for a long minute before he slowly lowered himself onto the ground, looking off into the distance, his feet still on the ground, his knees cocked up. "Come here," he said without looking at me.

I let out a breath, unsure where this was going to lead, but sure I wanted to know. I walked toward his body, stopping to stand beside him. His arm reached out and snagged my wrist, pulling me to stand in front of him, facing him. Then his hand moved up to tag the front waistband of my jeans and used it to pull me downward onto my knees before him. "Here," he clarified when he released my jeans.

"Okay. I'm here," I said when we just sat there looking at each other.

He gave me an odd smile, shaking his head for a second. "Not like most men."

"I noticed."

"Got walls..."

"No shit," I found myself laughing. "I have those too. So?"

"Can't get under," he said and there was steel in the words, "or over," he added with a smirk, like he knew I was thinking there was always a way around a wall.

"Maybe not," I agreed, understanding the need to believe the walls you build around yourself were impenetrable. "But guess what?"

His head cocked to the side and I could tell by the way his light eyes were dancing that he was amused. "What?"

"Doesn't matter what the wall is made of; a good enough bomb can blast through anything."

Then the strangest thing happened.

He threw his head back and he laughed, loud, and rumbling, full of genuine appreciation. I'd never seen anything like it before. While true, I lived at a compound where I was surrounded by men and they often found reason to laugh and enjoy life, I had never seen a man like Wolf, someone serious and haunted, have his rugged, manly features lit up in amusement. There was a strange swelling sensation in my chest, something I wasn't familiar enough with to recognize that made me reach out without thinking and place a hand on his cheek.

His head snapped back to me; the smile slowly faded. His eyes grew heavy as his arm raised, his hand snaking around the back of my neck, moving me forward. He did it slowly, as if waiting for resistance. But I felt none. All I felt was drunk on the sound of his laughter and the warmth spreading across my chest.

My lips landed on his, sending a shot of desire through my system. My other hand raised so I was cradling his face in my hands as I pressed my lips harder against his, wanting things, needing things I couldn't describe. Wolf's lips parted under mine and my tongue moved into his mouth, claiming his almost violently. His arms went around me tight, pulling me forward until I was plastered against him, his legs closed around me as well, completely trapping me in. Normally, even during training sessions when I was being held down to see how fast I got away, I freaked at being held down. It was my greatest weakness because the hysteria and panic made me clumsy and predictable, easy for my opponent to anticipate and thwart my escape. But I could never overcome it, the strangling feeling across my throat, the cold sweat breaking out over my whole body, the uncomfortable crawling sensation of my skin. I never left one of those training sessions feeling successful. I walked away and threw up violently, slamming my head against the tile walls in the bathroom to keep from crying.