Cash (The Henchmen MC Book 2) (17 page)

He reached for me then and with reflexes I didn't know I had, my arm came up and I stabbed the knife straight through his outstretched palm. I should have been horrified, sickened, frozen on the spot at the sight of the blade sticking out of both ends of his hand. But, in reality, all I felt was pleasure, down to my toes, it was positively arousing.

With a smile, I ripped it back out, Damian's scream echoing off the bathroom tile and bouncing back at me.

“You stupid...”

He didn't get the rest out because then I was stabbing. Fast, frequent, unrelenting. All I saw was red- blood everywhere. All I heard were his screams and groans and curses.

By the time my vision cleared, Damian was on the floor, clutching his hand to his side, his clothes saturated with blood. He was still breathing, but my knife was lodged in one of his ribs and I couldn't pull it back out.

Horrified, but still determined as ever to be done, I flew out of the bathroom, rubbing my bloodstained hands over the comforter of the bed as I grabbed as much as I could and threw it into a bag. That included his gun and the twenty five thousand dollars cash he kept under the floorboards under our bed because he was convinced the banks were going to fail.

With that and not a glance backward, I left him.

Also, more importantly, I left that woman behind too. The victim. I was done with her. I was never,
fucking ever
going to be her again.

And I never was.

Sixteen

Cash

The funny thing about my anger, it's like one of those sparklers kids play with on the fourth of July. It burns bright and brilliant for a matter of minutes then fizzles out to nothing at all. I had never been the type who could use their pissed-off-edness to fuel a revenge plot. I didn't hold grudges.

It was simply never the way I operated. I blamed my father. I blamed the fact that he never seemed to be anything but angry. From the day my mother died, even more so. It was like he blamed the world for her loss and he was all too happy to take that rage out on anyone who so much as stepped on his toes.

Even as a kid, I knew I didn't want to be that way. I knew it wasn't right, it didn't fit my personality. Reign had moments when it did suit him, when it did fit him. But as president of a gun running bike gang full of testosterone-driven men... well... he needed to be able to tap into that on occasion, to hold professional grudges. It was part of what made him good at what he did.

Being second in command, well, it left me more freedom to let that shit go. I didn't need to hang on to it, so I didn't.

All I needed was a good fight, a good fuck, or a good workout and the rage always slipped away, not leaving a trace, like it had never been there to begin with.

That was me.

That, apparently, was not Lo.

Which, well, I had already guessed at on my own, but walking up the stairs to see her in her clothes like they were a shield, working hard, looking like her intimidating self (which I found sexy as hell, but that was beside the point)... I knew she was going to do whatever it took to hold onto the anger she felt at me. It wasn't just anger that I left her high and dry either. It was something else, something she wasn't letting me see.

In the end, though, it didn't matter how much she wanted to hold onto it. Eventually, she would give in. And I'd be there. I'd be there and I'd get some answers and I'd get to know who Lo was after all.

When I asked her who the fuck the Damian Crane guy was, it was like I set a bomb off in my house, it was like she was holding herself off from shooting right out of her skin.

“Bad guy, huh?” I asked, going for casual, trying to take that look off her face, that look of absolute, bone-deep fear. Whoever the fuck Damian Crane was, he wasn't just a bad guy. He wasn't just a job. He was a ghost, one of her ghosts.

Finally, finally I had something to go on. Later. Alone.

“It's cool, don't tell me. Not my business. Now why don't you close all that shit down and get your plump ass up in my bed?”

“Plump?” was her immediate reaction, as it was any woman's who didn't realize plump was a damn good thing.

“Yeah, plump. Round. Thick. Bite-able.”

She made a strange snorting noise. “What happened to having to ask for your cock?” she asked, closing her laptop, giving me one of her famous brow raises.

“Oh, darlin', you're still going to have to ask for that. But it wasn't what I had in mind.”

“That's what you always have in mind,” she said, but the bitterness had left her tone and all I heard was teasing.

“True enough,” I shrugged, not offended. It
was
true. “But right now, I was thinking- movie and sleep.”

“Movie and sleep?” she parroted, looking at me like I suggested an orgy and ritual animal sacrifice.

“Yeah. Movie is your choice. Just not any of those shit vampire/werewolf love story things.”

“I
like
those vampire/werewolf love story things,” she countered with a smile that almost made me take a step back it was so genuine, open.

“Of course you do,” I smiled back, grabbing one of her romance novels out of her bag and gently tapping her on her forehead with it.

With that, I turned up toward the stairs.

“What are you doing with my book?” she called, but she was walking up with me.

“I dunno. I might find myself in need of some... literary pornography later,” I laughed.

“Gross. Give me my book back,” she said, reaching for it as she climbed the stairs and for the first time, she didn't need to use the rail to help herself up.

“What? You're allowed to use it to get you all warmed up to trip the switch but I'm not...”

“Trip the switch?” she asked, standing beside the bed and grinning.

“Yeah, you know... trip the switch, polish the pearl, diddle the skittle, double click the mouse, circle the wagon...” I trailed off to the sound of her laughter. It was like I remembered it, feminine, tinkling.

“You're ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head.

“You love it,” I shot back, reaching behind my back and hauling off my shirt. I tried not to smile when her mouth parted slightly and her breathing got a little less even. She was right- I'm a cocky fuck. As such, I knew I had a good body. Not huge, I was never the type of man who needed to have muscles so big they couldn't put their arms down to their sides, but I kept shit tight. I reached for my pants as I kicked out of my boots.

My hands had just pushed them off my hips when she swallowed hard. “What are you doing?”

“Shower babe,” I said, moving past her toward the hall again. I was just about to round the curve of the wall and be out of view when I pushed my boxer briefs down and gave her a view of my ass. I didn't have to look to know she was watching. I smiled the rest of the way until I got into the shower, reached down, and dealt with the epic case of blue balls she had me dealing with.

I walked back with a towel slung low on my hips to find her in the bed, changed into one of my tees. I was sure she had something to sleep in inside her bag, but she chose my clothes instead. Whether she realized it or not, it meant something.

“So what movie are we watching?” I asked, going to my closet and finding a pair of black sweats. I turned slightly to the side, ripped off the towel, and slipped into the pants.

“Ah... what?” she asked, shaking her head when the silence dragged on.

“Movie, Lo,” I clarified with a knowing smirk.

“Oh, right. Um. I don't know. Something without violence. I get enough of that shit in my life.”

I nodded, clicked through the on-demand choices, picked the most recent stupid comedy, and put it on. I climbed into my side of the bed, stretching an arm across the back of the pillows.

She half-watched the movie and I could feel her gaze falling on me more than occasionally. “You gonna come over here or what, gorgeous?” I asked, slanting my face toward her, ruffling a bit of her hair with my hand that was resting above her pillow. There was only the barest of seconds before her body shifted and curled into my side. My arm slid down and wrapped around her back, holding her against me. “There you go,” I murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of her hair.

“Don't ruin it,” she shot back, but the malice wasn't in her words anymore.

“No. Wouldn't want that. So,” I went right on, unable to help myself, “you like my naked body, huh?” A half-exhale, half-snort escaped her. “I don't blame you. It's pretty fucking amazing. They should build statues of me.” At that, I got her tinkling laugh again and I smiled. “Know what?”

“No... what?” she asked without hesitation.

“They should build statues of yours too.”

Her head tilted upward and her eyes rolled. “Oh please. I'm closing in on my forties. No one is building statues of my body.”

“Best tits I've ever seen.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “And considering the sheer amount of tits your eyes have been privy to...”

“Exactly,” I agreed, reaching my free hand down to boop her nose.

Her brows drew together like she was trying to figure something out. “You're in a good mood.”

“I'm always in a good mood.”

“You weren't like... two hours ago.”

“And that was two hours ago so why the fuck we talkin' about it now?”

Her lips pursed slightly and she nodded. “Good point.”

“So are we watching this movie or what?” I asked and her head settled back onto my chest.

“Sure. If you can shut up for a while,” she said, her words warm and teasing.

“No promises.”

“You're still talking.”

“So are you.”

We fell asleep sometime before the credits actually rolled.

I woke up to her kissing down my chest, the sleep drawing back like a fog against the sensation.

“Baby...” I heard my voice murmur, already husky, already turned on.

Her body shifted and her legs landed on either side of my body. Her lips trailed slowly down the center of my stomach, her soft hair tickling over my skin. My hand moved down, gathering her hair to one side of her neck so I could watch her as her tongue slipped out to trace the skin directly above the waistband of my pants.

“Lo, baby, if this is some kind of payback...” I started, one of my hands curling into a fist as her teeth nipped into my skin.

At my words, she shifted again, moving upward to look down at me. Her hips shifted downward and stroked across my cock and both of our mouths opened on a groan.

“Not payback,” she said, her eyes heavy.

Thank fuck.

“How are these?” I asked, pressing my hand into her ribs.

“I'll be fine,” she said, brushing against my cock again.

My hands rested on her hips for a second, guiding her movements, driving us both upward before I bunched up the material of her tee and started sliding it upward. I sat up close to her body so I could pull it free and my hands moved up to cup her face and pull it to mine.

It wasn't soft and sweet like the last kiss, we were beyond that. The kiss was rough and wild, full of the desire we had both been trying to deny. Her tongue pressed into my mouth and my hands slid down from her face to her breasts, teasing over her nipples until they were hard in my hands. My arm slid up and around her back, holding her to me as I shifted our weight and gently moved her onto the mattress, my weight balanced half-off of her. I lifted up and smiled down at her.

“What?” she asked, looking cautious.

“You haven't asked yet,” I reminded her, smirking.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Shut up and fuck me, Cash.”

Well then. Okay.

Seventeen

Lo

I didn't expect gentle.

I didn't think he was capable. Well, that wasn't true. He had been very gentle with me before, but I kind of figured that it was because I was in so much pain. I always imagined he fucked like he lived: fast and carefree. Not hard and rough and dominating, because that wasn't his personality. Giving, energetic, inventive, maybe a little kinky at times. Just not... soft.

But that was exactly what he was giving me.

His lips explored mine until every inch of my skin felt like it was buzzing, electric. “Cash...” I groaned as his lips trailed down the side of my neck, unhurried, happy to take his time to explore despite the fact that he had already seen my body. His lips closed over my nipple, making a shiver run through my body as his tongue flicked over the sensitive point. My back arched as the wetness pooled between my thighs. God, I wanted him. But at the same time, I found myself utterly, bone-deep terrified.