Reeve (The Henchmen MC 11)

And I damn sure knew I was going to be on everyone's watchlist for now until I did something to prove they needed to keep an eye on me.

Careful, that was what the organizations in this town were.

That was how they survived as long as they did.

And that was what I knew I needed to be if I wanted staying power.

It hadn't taken long after Lyon was in the ground for me to see that maybe my plan for vengeance was short-sighted.

Sure, I could go after that bitch and her loanshark friend. I could make them pay for putting me in the hospital. I could also go after the Grassi family for almost finishing the job and dumping me out to sea like trash.

I could do all that.

I felt justified in it.

I had pains in places anytime the weather dipped colder or got wet that made it hard to get out of bed. I had a permanent fucking limp that made me look like some gimp who couldn't handle his business.

But being in power for the first time in my life, getting a taste of what it was like to have the kind of money accessible to me as I did, and all of this happening with very little fuss on anyone's part, yeah, it had me thinking about keeping the peace.

Why get vengeance when I could just run my empire?

After all, one thing I learned after having to do - and order - a lot of blood to be shed was... it wasn't personal. Business was business.

Getting my ass kicked because I locked up the boyfriend of a powerful member of Hailstorm? Business. Getting carted off to sea by fellow members of the mob for stepping on their turf? Business.

It was giving me a new perspective.

There was just one problem.

This motherfucking woman.

See, the compound came with its perks, that was for damn sure. It was big, sprawling, had a security system that would make the CIA jealous, its own army that was happy to follow a new leader, some great decor, a vault full of cash and guns, and a nice view.

It also came with its own jail.

Which would have been amazing.

Had it not come already boasting a prisoner.

It had been quite a shock on my second day to be informed that the prisoner needed to be fed. Apparently, this was not the job of one of the many servants or guards.

Nope, this honor was left up to Richard Lyon himself.

Why?

That was what I wanted to know as I took the tray of food and walked across the yard to the building that was guarded, seemingly unnecessarily by four guards - one at each side.

Walking in, there she was, in a giant cell that looked sturdier than any jail cell I had ever seen. She had your typical prison-standard sink-toilet stainless steel combo along with a small walk-in shower. The goddamn shower head and the base of the handles were cemented as far up as they could be and still be functional.

Overkill, it seemed like.

Then there was a cement bed with a simple memory foam mattress.

No blanket.

No pillow.

There was a desk with a single book.

And that was it.

It was more bare than any prison in this country.

It was barely a step up from the hole.

Again, the word overkill went through my mind as my eyes fell on a lone woman in a simple blue jumpsuit, her deep red hair hanging down her shoulders, her keen light eyes watching me from her position leaning on the desk.

"Well well well... what do we have here?" she asked as I moved over to open the slot to slip the food in, then re-lock it with the keys the guard had given me.

"That's a good question," I agreed, taking a step back as she ignored her food, seeming more interested in studying me.

"Is Richard out of town?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Her lips quirked up slightly at that. "In a manner of speaking, hm? Does that mean he has a bullet in his sorry head and is rotting in the ground somewhere?"

"Something like that."

"I would assume I am right in guessing that it was your handiwork."

"By my order," I corrected.

"Ah, the man in charge. In the flesh. So you must have heard all about me."

"I've heard some things." Like she needed to be fed.

She didn't need to know that that was all I knew. Having worked for many of them in my day, I could spot a master manipulator from a mile away.

But this woman, she was in a league her own, I would find out.

Not only this, but she could spot a lie as well.

"You don't know dick," she declared, smile spreading, clearly enjoying that fact. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun."

And for her, it was.

Because no one but her four guards and myself were allowed to have any communication at all - a rule I kept since I didn't trust her ass - I was on call. As in, she had me fucking summoned at least five times a day. All different hours. With all different reasons.