And they liked to fuck with us without outwardly getting hostile, or declaring war of any sort.
They didn't throw hands or draw guns.
But they did shit.
Like showing up at the gates.
Like poking at the hot-tempered future president of our MC.
I couldn't tell if Fallon was annoyed with or amused by them. By Danny in particular.
What can I say? It wasn't every day you ran across a female MC president. Hell, I wasn't sure I'd ever heard of it. Aside from one MC I'd heard rumors of. But that was an all-female MC. This was a single woman in charge of a bunch of rough-and-tumble men, many of them older than her.
It also had to be said that Danny was a fucking knockout. Tall, long-legged, stacked. She was hot as shit with her long, straight blonde hair, pretty face, and ice-blue eyes. And she carried herself like it too.
She had a sort of cocky self-assurance you didn't find in people that often. But, I guess, if you were the president of an MC, you earned that arrogance.
Hell, Fallon was similar as well.
Unlike Fallon, though, Danny didn't seem to have a quick temper. She came off to me as someone who never rushed into anything, who took her time, learned her angle, then struck. Cunning and ruthless, those were words I would use to describe her.
"Maybe if you all hadn't stolen from us," Fallon said, watching Danny.
"You're still sore about that?" she asked, as if it wasn't an ongoing thing now that many of our former contacts and clients were going to her and her club instead.
"Well, that. And the whole kidnapping my fucking father thing," Fallon shot back, temper sparking.
"Hey, we didn't kidnap anyone," Danny reasoned, that infuriatingly arrogant smile still tugging at her lips.
"Right," Fallon said, tone deceptively calm. "But I'm not sure it's a boss move to admit you're too chickenshit to get your hands dirty, so you hire jobs out."
It was the first time I'd ever seen anything other than a sort of detached amusement cross Danny's face. I might not have been like Hope, but I damn sure knew anger when I saw it flicker across a woman's eyes.
But before she could open her mouth to shoot some no doubt scathing jab in Fallon's general direction, the sound of bikes coming in from every direction made everyone straighten, stiffen. A few of Danny's men's hands went to slide into their waistbands, an action cut short when Danny raised a hand, stopping them even as eight of our biker brothers blocked them in on both sides, already climbing off.
Unlike the Vultures, the Henchmen reached for their guns. This was their turf to protect, after all.
Our president, vice, and road captain all lived further on the outskirts of town, meaning actual leadership was falling on Fallon. But it was the OG's who stepped threatening toward the rival bikers.
In the end, it was my father who stepped up to Danny.
I was raised by the man. I knew there was some soft under all that hard. But I still found the bastard intimidating as fuck. I imagined Danny felt the same way, even if she wasn't showing any outward signs as her chin raised stubbornly.
"You know you don't belong here. Fuck off, babe," he said, tone dry, but there was some still underneath it, a silent threat hanging in the air. Don't make me make you leave.
"Funny," Danny said, lips pursing slightly, refusing to take a step back even as my father got in her personal space. "I heard this rumor about how these Henchmen guys are all morally upstanding when it comes to not putting their hands on women."
"Normal women, yeah," my father said, nodding. "Stupid chicks who think they can take what is ours, yeah, we're a little less moral about that shit."
"Stupid," Danny repeated, the word clearly bitter on her tongue. That anger I saw flicker burst into a flame. Because, let's face it, a woman didn't get her position being stupid. Or weak. Or cowardly. If I had to place money on the scariest biker in her club, I'd put my money on her every time.
But the anger said there was insecurity there. She didn't like being challenged. She didn't want to be seen as weaker in front of her men.
That was good to know. We could work with that if we needed to in the future.
"Danny, get your ass out of here before my father gets here," Fallon demanded, tone still unusually casual. "He will be a lot less friendly than we are being."
"This is friendly," Danny said, pressing a finger into my father's chest, pushing him back an inch. "You should consider putting your dogs on a leash, little future president," she said, gaze holding my father's for a long moment before looking over at Fallon. "You know what happens when you let rabid ones out of the yard, don't you?" she asked, tone icy.