Wolf (The Henchmen MC #3) (18 page)

Needless to say, I woke up alone.

There was also no note this time.

So I figured he likely wasn't out mutilating more people because that was the only time he actually left me a note. But still. We had things to talk about and argue about and...

"Christ," I cursed myself, running a hand through my wild hair. I wasn't his girlfriend. I didn't get to demand he leave me notes and tell me his whereabouts. I wasn't even his little hostage anymore so I couldn't rightfully be pissed that he left me alone at all.

It was my own damn fault that I didn't have a car there or my laptop and books and shit to keep my mind occupied. I needed to stop planning my days around his days. I didn't do shit like that. That wasn't the kind of girl I was. On a firm nod to the strong-woman yelling at me inside my head, I turned back into the house, grabbed a gun, ammo, a coin, slipped into my boots, and headed into the woods for target practice.

I had just paused to reload the gun for the second time when I heard a throat clear behind me. I snapped the gun back together as I whirled, arm raised, ready to do what might need to be done. Like I was trained to.

"Aw pumpkin, what'd I ever do to you?" Shooter asked, standing about two yards behind me, hands tucked into his tight black jeans. Yeah, Shooter was the tight black jean kinda guy. He was also the creepers kinda guy. And tattooed, pierced, devilish kinda guy.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I snapped, my voice dropping low as if someone might overhear us, you know, all out in the deep woods.

"Nice to see you again, pretty girl," he said, giving me the smile I knew melted panties for miles wide. "Your aim is better."

"How would you know about my aim at all?" I countered.

"Hailstorm might watch all of us, sweetheart. But all us small timers keep an eye out too." Small timer? Ha. He was the best contract killer on the East coast. He got paid trunk loads of cash for the jobs he did. The last thing he was, was a small timer. Even if he was a one-man organization. When I didn't speak, his smile got a little boyish. "I know my attractiveness can make women senseless, but we got some shit to talk about."

I felt my own lips tip up and lowered the gun. "Thanks for killing Lo's ex. He deserved to get dead."

"He deserved to have his dick shot off first," he said, moving closer.

"You didn't!" I gasped.

"Oh, peaches, I sure as fuck did."

I snorted. "Enough with the pet names, Shoot." I bristled. I was nobody's 'peaches' or 'pumpkin'. "So what do we need to talk about?"

"We need to talk about Lex Keith."

My spine straightened. "What about him?"

"See? I like a good vacation, getting away from all the killing and pussy. It's good for the psyche. I don't like being forced into a vacation in some sick fuck's basement with nothin' but dimwitted lackeys to keep me company. So I was pleased as punch that you blew that place up and got me, Break, and Alex out of there. I owe you for that."

"Is that why you're here? To offer me a marker?"

"I'm here because me and Breaker and Alex are down in fucking Mexico and I'd like for us to be able to come back some day. Can't do that with Lex out there looking for us."

"That threat is neutralized," I said carefully.

A slow, appreciative smile grew, making his already handsome face almost unbelievably so. "Look at you. Watch out Beatrix Kiddo, we got a new badass, hot as fuck assassin to inspire a million wet dreams."

"Beatrix Kiddo is fictional."

He nodded at me, looked off in the distance, then pinned me with his deep green eyes. "So you're saying we can come back anytime."

I exhaled. "That depends."

"On?"

"Who is Joshua?" I asked, bringing up the name of the guy with the bone sticking out of his leg who screwed up my plans the night of the bombing.

"Fuck," Shoot said, shaking his head.

"I'll take that as a 'I know him and he's a problem'. Well, I was in the basement to get Lex and he yelled for help. Had his freaking tibia sticking out of his leg."

"Nice."

"Yeah. So I helped him hobble his ass out of there. He can point me out and it is sounding like he could point you out too. I don't think you have anything to worry about with what is left of Lex's enterprise. And while the cops around here are generally inept or crooked, if they decided to lean on him..."

"So you're saying we should enjoy the beach for a while," Shooter asked, smirking again.

"Lots of ladies I'm sure you haven't tapped down there."

"Sold," he smiled and reached out to boop me on the nose. Apparently he was the black skinny jean, creepers, pet name calling, and nose-booping kind of guy. No wonder he got so much tail. "Thanks for the heads-up, sweetheart. If you hear anything worth sharing, let me know, okay?"

"Enjoy your vacation."

Shooter gave me a wicked grin. "Think one of them will say 'ay papi' when I get all up in there?" he asked, smiling wider when I couldn't hold his gaze. I was used to dirty jokes; the men at Hailstorm were as filthy as they could get. But there was something about the way Shoot said things like that when he was looking at you, like he'd know what you sounded like saying that to him when he was 'all up in there'. Yeah, it was disarming.

"Shoot, I think they will say anything you want them to."

He laughed and sent me a wink. "Enjoy your mountain man," he said, turning and taking off where he had come from.

My.

My mountain man.

I stood there dumbly for a long minute, watching Shoot's easy swagger, his words still heavy on my shoulders because I realized he was right; that was how I saw Wolf: as mine. It was ridiculous and unfounded, but that was how I felt. I was staying in his house, voluntarily now. I was sharing his bed. I washed blood off his naked body. I cooked him food and kinda hoped it was at least edible even though I knew I had no culinary skills. I bonded with his dogs. I cleaned up the evidence of multiple crimes.

I guess a part of me decided that meant I could claim ownership.

And the other part of me decided that even if I didn't currently possess it, it was a goal I wanted to work toward.

It was crazy. Who based a relationship off of screwed up pasts and murder?

At that, I felt a hysterical little laugh escape my lips. Who? Yeah, I guess that would be Reign and Summer and Cash and Lo. Hell, it even sounded like Breaker and Alex. None of us had the luxury of a clean life, of nervous first dates and awkward third date kisses, of security and comfort. We all dated and fucked and loved like we lived: hard and fast and dirty, never wasting a second because we were never guaranteed the next one.

So maybe there was a chance for us, beyond all the scars and bloodshed and pain. Maybe there was a way to move on together. I mean... not that I had any idea whether or not Wolf had any interest in that kind of thing. Bikers weren't exactly known for their monogamousness. I didn't blame them. I imagined if I had a dick, I'd want to stick it in a bunch of different club whores too. But if Reign and Cash had settled down, there was hope.

I mean... not that I was hoping...

"Augh. I'm being such a
girl
," I growled at myself, tucking the gun into the waistband of my jeans and making my way back toward the cabin.

I wasn't good with the girl stuff. There were some women at Hailstorm, but we were definitely outnumbered. And the women that were there were like me and Lo, kinda closed off and private. We chatted. They all bullshitted about sex and men and stuff like normal women do. But we were all very closed-off about our feelings, all of us hiding our own emotional scars. It was a defense mechanism. We all thought we needed to be so hard, stone cold, to be able to compete with the men, to have them take us seriously. I couldn't imagine the wrath of shit I would get if I showed any kind of feminine emotion around them. They would eviscerate me. That was our life. And, up until right then, walking in the woods, I never saw anything wrong with that.

I didn't
want
to be soft and feminine. I wanted to be a badass bitch who no one would ever think to second-guess. But how badass was it to hide how you were feeling? I mean I emoted. When I was pissed or frustrated or offended, there was hell to pay. I ranted, I raged. I made grown ass men cower and hide. So what would be wrong with embracing some of the less
fun
emotions? Like pain and desire, hope and maybe... just maybe... love.

"Oh god," I groaned at myself as I broke into the clearing to the cabin.

I was never like Lo in that department, drooling over romance novels, dying for the hero and heroine to overcome the odds and get together. In fact, I tended to skim over the lovey-dovey crap in the books I read. I guess a part of me rebelled against it because I never considered it a possibility for me. Things had happened to me at such a young age that I hardly had a chance to date, let alone entertain the idea of love. I had been too wrapped up in teenage rebellion and driving my parents crazy to devote any real time to boys. And
after
, well, the idea turned my stomach.

But here I was, all un-turned stomach with normal feelings for someone of the opposite sex.

And, make no mistake, there were feelings.

There was no denying it. It was in the way my body responded to him, even when I didn't want it to. It was in the way I actually fucking
cried
around him, in how I hung on his every word (no matter how few they were), and well... missed him when he was gone.

Hence my sour mood despite a run-in with a man who likely made all other women forget about their boyfriends, husbands, and lovers altogether.

I dropped down in the middle of the bed on a huff and tried to concentrate on a book. For all of three seconds because then I heard the sound of Wolf's truck rumbling up the drive. I resisted the urge to spring up and run to the door.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Wolf lumbered in, hands full of bags.

"You went... shopping?" I asked, nose scrunching up at the idea. It was hard to imagine someone like him doing every day banal tasks like shopping and getting hair cuts and taking the dogs to the vet. Wolf made some kind of grunting noise as he put the bags on the dining table and started fishing items out and putting them into the fridge.

"That's a lot of food. I think I've proved that I'm useless in a kitchen."

"I'll cook," he said simply like it was no big deal.

Meanwhile, it gave me that warm, gooey feeling again.

Still. Things needed to be discussed.

"Um, Wolf?" Another grunt. "We, ah, need to talk about some stuff." God, I sounded like such a
girl.

He stopped his unpacking and turned, focusing all his attention on me. "Okay." I fumbled for where to start. Apparently all the talking I did was not the same as
speaking.
Because I was shit at this. "Gonna talk?"

I took a deep breath. "Why am I here?" I went with.

"You wanna be," he shrugged.

"No like... augh!" Okay. I needed to relax. "Do you want me here?" I tried, feeling like a lot was hanging on his answer, my entire future actually. Because if Wolf didn't want to keep me in his cabin... what was left for me in Navesink Bank? I might never feel comfortable at Hailstorm again. Lo forgave me, but would trust ever be the same? Could she convince the other organizations to not come after me? Even if she managed that, none of them would ever look at me the same. I would always be that chick that set bombs on their turf, making them look vulnerable, exploiting their weak spots. If I couldn't find a new reason to stay, well, then it was better to leave.

"If you wanna be."

"That's not an answer."

"It's my answer."

"Do you even... like me at all?"

"Killed for you."

"Yeah, but like... would you have done that for any random girl you saw in my situation?" His silence was all the answer I needed for that particular question. It was an answer that was at once crushing, because his actions weren't out of genuine feelings for me, but also uplifting because, well, he was really just a good guy. I looked down at the bed, too mortified to ask what I was about to ask to watch him while I did so. "Are you... attracted to me?"

The answer was swift. "Seriously?"

"Wolf..."

"Yes," he said and I could finally look up.

"Is that all you want from me?"

"Janie stop," he said, shaking his head, going back to unpacking his bags.

"Stop what? I've barely gotten started, Wolf. I'm trying to understand."

"Understand what?" he asked, back to me.

"What I'm doing here. If you actually want me here. If you're just being a good guy and hiding me from the cops. If you actually want anything to do with me or you just want to fuck me because I am close and have the right body parts."

"I want you here," he said, putting his fists on the surface of the dining room table, making him hunch slightly forward.

"Right. But for what reason? Am I just another club whore to you? Like whatever one you spent the other night with?"