Reeve (The Henchmen MC 11)

Things had been calm.

Almost eerily so.

There was still a prisoner in the basement, but no one came up with bloodied hands anymore. I guess any further questioning would need to be done by the president himself. Who was, apparently, almost back. Along with the rest of the club. Even the idea of that set my nerves on edge, a mostly unfamiliar sensation for me.

I was used to these guys. For the past few days, we had been sharing every moment of our days. I had caught Pagan out back smoking, tossing a ball for the dogs. Sugar had sat with me to watch a renovation show on TV late one night when I couldn't sleep. Roan always made sure tea water was brewed for me along with the pot of coffee for everyone else.

But a new slew of bikers? The older ones who I, for some reason, found a bit more intimidating? I wasn't sure how they would react to me, to my presence, to the fact that my animals were taking up a huge room in their compound.

To put it simply, I was nervous.

And Reeve was still sleeping.

But, come what may, they were on their way.

I was sure it would be fine.

"Incoming," one of the guards called from outside, making Cy nudge me with his shoulder like he knew I was worried, like he was trying to tell me it would be fine.

Not a minute later, the front door pulled open.

And in he walked, the president of The Henchmen MC.

He was every bit as intimidating as I imagined he would be, tall, good-looking, though old for me, with the confident carriage of a leader. His light green eyes scanned the room, giving his men nods before landing on me.

"When this is all over, Ferryn wants to come to your house to see the animals," he told me and that seemed to be his way of welcoming me into the fold.

Behind him came a man with his similar bone structure but light hair, darker eyes, and a more laid-back demeanor. Cash, Reeve had explained to me. At his heels was, well, a mountain man giant with a full dark beard, huge shoulders, and eyes that seemed both fierce and kind somehow.

"Let's go give him his wake-up call," Reign suggested, Cash and the mountain man - Wolf - heading off toward the basement as the others filed in.

One I knew as Repo from his description followed his other brothers down. The others came in and stood around, looking tired from the road, and tense about the situation as a whole.

"This is Rey," Cy explained, drawing everyone's attention to me. And, to my surprise, maybe because their minds were occupied elsewhere, they all just gave me a distracted greeting and went on their way, many seeming to go off to their rooms, the others to the kitchen for coffee.

The tension in the compound was palpable.

"You want a refill?" Cy asked, taking my cup from my hands as he moved to stand.

"I, ah, no. I think I am going to see if Reeve is up yet," I said, wanting to maybe get away for a little while, my stomach a bit wobbly at the idea of these men being back, and what that might mean for the coming days or weeks.

"Alrighty. I am still expecting that stir-fry by the way," he said, kicking my foot slightly. "I haven't forgotten."

I was getting some grapes out of the fridge while the tea water brewed earlier, realizing that while the guys had eaten all the lunch meat and even grilled off the steaks and burgers someone had bought, no one had touched the ample pile of veggies. And I had made a comment about how when all my veggies were going to go bad, I made a giant stir-fry, ate some, and froze the rest.

Cyrus took that to mean I would make them all a stir-fry, and that he would be happy to Get my veg on.

I felt like I couldn't say no, even though I agreed not to cook for Reeve. I guess this was kind of, sort of a way around that. I would tell him though, just because that was the right thing to do.

Later.

Once I figured out how he was feeling.

I closed - and maybe even locked, a bit paranoid - his bedroom door, finding the lights already on and the bed empty.

The bathroom door was cracked open, warm steam drifting into the bedroom.

As if on cue, the door opened.

And there he was.

He had a towel, sure, but, ah, yeah, it wasn't wrapped around him. He was holding it in his hand, his body dry.

His whole body.

We had been sharing a room for days, but we had always both been mostly dressed. Aside from the one towel incident, and when I was rubbing healing creams on him, he always kept a shirt on. And I was mostly keeping one of his shirts on with a pair of my leggings.