West (The Henchmen MC 19)

But, no.

We had to be dumb.

So here we were.

We would have to attempt to be grown-ups and have a discussion, work out the kinks if we both decided we wanted to give a serious relationship a shot.

But, yeah, I planned to give him a little hell first.

He had it coming.—They rolled into town the next morning, rumbling bikes and leather cuts and chiseled, stupidly good-looking faces. Even the older dudes.

I was already packed, waiting for my ride to the airport. Before they started shutting down air travel to combat the spread of the virus.

But I had one last thing to handle.

"Gus..." Huck warned, likely seeing the determination in my eyes, in my gait, as I made my way across the grounds, steadily approaching the group of road-weary men as they got off their bikes, tried to get some blood flowing back into their legs. "What are you doing?"

"Which one of you is Reign?" I asked, glancing around, finding each face intimidating enough to be an MC president.

"Me, babe," a tall, strong, gorgeous man with slightly graying dark hair declared, moving in front of his men.

"Great. Can you just lean down a little bit?" I asked, giving him a tight smile.

His brows furrowed as he glanced at his men, but when he looked back at me, he half-bent forward.

Just low enough that my punch landed true to his cheek with a satisfying crack.

"That is for making West go back to Navesink Bank," I told him as Huck rushed forward, grabbing my arm, dragging me back a foot.

Reign's hand rose, rubbing against his cheek.

"Fuck, Reign. I'm sorry. She's such a pain in the ass."

But when Reign's hand fell, he offered me a knowing smirk.

"Sounds exactly like the kind of girl West needs then," he said, chuckling. "You gonna hit him when you see him too?"

"Probably," I agreed, nodding.

"Then, by all means, don't let us stop you," another of the men, one who looked a lot like Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver, said, smiling big, enjoying the mental image.

"Yeah, go kick his arse, babe," another agreed, rocking back on his heels.

"Just pissed we won't be there to see it," an older guy with eyes like a wolf added.

"Let me go, Huck," I demanded, yanking away. "I have permission to go now."

"Like you'd have stayed if you didn't," he grumbled.

"Hey, babe, before you go," Reign called, making me turn back to face him.

"Yeah?"

"This thing? Just casual? Or is it serious?"

"Well, I am seriously pissed off. So, yeah, it's serious," I told him.

"Fuck," he grumbled, hanging his head.

"What?"

"With you heading up there, Lo is gonna know I owe her money now," he declared, smiling.—I'd been to Navesink Bank a few times before. When I could get time away from work, Huck and I would come up and visit our uncle, stay for a few days, then head back home.

And because Huck was who he was, he knew a lot about the criminal underbelly of the area.

I had never taken much of an interest in it, but as I walked down the main street in town, Poppy tucked under my arm because she refused to walk herself, I found myself wanting to know about it all.

In my mind, I was picturing shady backroom betting at the butcher shop, drugs being handed off on street corners, bodies melting in vats of, well, whatever bodies melted in, in the basements of homes down the side streets.

Once things were worked out with West, I wanted the true stories, or my mind would keep running away from me.

"We're not exactly open for business, babe," a biker in a cut matching West's said as I approached the gates blocked by a man and a woman with very unconcealed guns in their hands.

"I'm not here about business."

"Hm," he said, eyes moving over me. "Don't think you're Colson's type."

"Like anyone would trust me to be a step-mother to their kid," I agreed.

"Shit. Really? West? You're Auggie? Or Gus? Or Augustina? Whatever the fuck we're supposed to call you?"

"Gus is fine."

"Shit, this poor fucker. He's not going to have any balls left now, is he? Alright, come on in," he said, nodding to the guards, making them open the gates. "How's your arm, babe?" he asked as we made our way toward the long, wide, low building.

"It's not great," I admitted. "But the swelling went down, so my fingertips aren't blue anymore."

"Always a perk," he agreed, opening the door to the building, leading me into a common room complete with an actual bar, pool table, and a sitting area with a giant television.

A group of mostly women and a couple kids were hanging around, gazes moving toward the door as we stepped in.

"I didn't get your name," I said to the guy who'd let me in.

"Sugar."

"As in 'Aw Honey Honey'?" I asked, noticing all the faces in the room scrunching up in confusion. "What? Did I say something wrong?"