Valen (Henchmen MC Next Generation 6)

Vi tended to go for darker-haired and darker-eyed guys. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her with someone with lighter features like Voss.

“Fucking… women…” was all I could make out as he turned around and walked back toward the door.

“Was that an invitation?” Violet called, getting an actual growl out of him as he exited the room.

“You’re cruel,” I told her.

“Oh, please. You should see Layna laying it on thick when she’s here. Poor Voss and Dezi don’t stand a chance.”

“Is she still doing the professional poker thing?” I asked.

“You would know if you maybe texted her once in a while,” Violet said, shooting me a hard look.

“We covered the me being a shitty friend part,” I reminded her. “I plan to try to… reconnect. You know… when I can sit on a barstool again. Because I think things like that require liquor.”

“Alright. I’m holding you to that. Even if we have to kidnap you. And, Louana, you know we will,” she said, looking like she might actually enjoy the hell out of it. “But, yeah, that’s what she’s been up to. I swear she’s been all over the world the past few years, seeking out those high-stakes games.”

If she was playing high-stakes games, that meant Layna had a lot of money to her name. A lot of those games wouldn’t even let you in if you couldn’t prove you at least had a million dollars in cash on hand.

And, yes, sure, I made a nice chunk of change. Enough that I could buy my car and my bike outright. Enough that I could buy a house too. All of it given to me from jobs, or stolen from virtual wallets of bad guys—a skill my father taught me how to do.

But I was nowhere near a millionaire.

I was kind of in awe of that for her.

“That’s awesome. But also seriously dangerous,” I said, shaking my head, thinking of the kinds of characters you could find in those games. Crime lords, shady politicians. The kind of men who didn’t like to lose. The kinds who might look at Layna and see someone they could easily “deal with” and take their money back from.

“I know. Everyone worries about her. Except her, of course. She seems to think she’s invincible.”

That sounded like Layna.

“She’s in France for this weekend. Which makes me feel marginally better than when she was in Russia with some Bratva and without her cell phone. I didn’t sleep that whole night, I swear. I felt like I had a daughter who might be ‘dead in a ditch somewhere’ or some other parental crap like that. She’s coming back after, though. So healed ass or not, I am going to make you see her.”

“You won’t have to make me,” I told her. “I… I never meant to be such a dick, Vi. And I think I’ve been avoiding you guys even though I’m back because I don’t want to face up to the hurt feelings I know are there. Which is ironic,” I said, waving toward the bathroom where we could hear Valen’s shower water running.

“It’s always hard to own up to our mistakes,” Vi said. “Luckily, we are a family of fuck-ups in all our own separate ways, so we won’t hold it too hard against you,” she said, hopping up. “Come on. Let’s get you a shower. I know your mom will probably be coming later, but it’s kind of weird, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, hence the oily hair,” I agreed.

“But since we all skinny-dipped on a dare once, there are no secrets here,” she said, waving down at her body, then mine. “Come on.”

I really wanted to argue. Because a part of me was starting to really feel like a burden to everyone around me.

That said, Vi was pretty damn persistent, and the next thing I knew, she had me in the bathroom, and was running the water.

And while I stood there wrapped in a towel for a moment more of modesty, I couldn’t help but blurt it out.

“Hey, do you know what Valen was involved in while he was traveling?”

“Involved in?” Violet repeated as she popped open the couple bottles of shampoo to smell them and pick her favorite even though it was my shower. “He worked odd jobs. Got into some scuffles here and there,” she added, pointing toward her neck where Valen had his scar.

That was what he seemed to tell everyone.

And no one really had a reason to question him.

Except me.

Because something was off.

I’d noticed it since that one text message came through. The one that made his face darken and his jaw get tight.

There was something he wasn’t telling us.

About where he’d been and what he’d done.

I’d noticed he’d also been ignoring his phone here and there, even when he wasn’t busy. Like he knew who the text was from, and didn’t want to read whatever it might say.