Wolf (The Henchmen MC #3) (6 page)

"You tell me."

"I'm not telling you anything," I blurted out, then rushed to cover. "There's nothing to tell. I just like bombs. I like blowing things up. I'm good at it. It's
fun
." All that rang true, because it was true. I had taken to bombs the way spaniels take to water. "Just because you obviously have some demons that..."

"Don't," he broke in, his tone almost savage.

"Don't what?" I shot back, jerking my chin higher.

"Don't think you can know me," he finished, his hands moving from my shoulders to cup my face, holding a little too hard, almost painful, and I wasn't sure if it was from his anger or just not knowing his own strength. "Ever."

I stared up at him silently for a moment. There was something in the air between us. It was something I didn't understand on a conscious level. But it was charged, electric, it was sparking everywhere our bodies were touching, it was vibrating everywhere we weren't. Wolf seemed to notice it too, his hands gentling on my face but not releasing it.

"Don't think you can know me either," I said into the silence, but my voice came out almost... sad. But that was ridiculous. Because I absolutely did
not
want him to know me. I didn't want anyone to know me. If they knew... if they knew what had happened...

No.

No one knew.

No one was going to know.

Certainly not the giant in front of me.

"Stubborn," he said with a brow lift.

"Right back at you."

I was rewarded with another small smile before his thumb moved out to stroke across my cheek. The sensation fluttered across my face and shot a line down the center of my body, ending in a strange little tightening in my sex and I felt my lips open in surprise and confusion. His gaze dropped to my mouth and the pressure low in my stomach intensified to the point of pain before I finally recognized it for what it was: arousal.

But that was impossible.

Never. Not once. Not since...

No.

Wolf's eyes met mine again. I guess he saw something there because he let out a small sigh and leaned down toward me and rested his forehead against mine. It took every ounce of control inside me to not melt into him. There was something there, in that moment, something weighted, but in a good way that made me want to press forward, that made me want to angle my head up and offer my lips as an invitation.

But then his head shifted slightly and I felt him press a chaste kiss to my forehead before pulling away. "Bed," he said, moving back over toward his chair and sitting down, pointedly avoiding looking at me.

I stayed against the counter for a long minute, taking deep breaths that did nothing to quiet the unfamiliar chaos working its way through my body as Wolf turned the TV on and cranked up the volume. Another silent communication telling me we were done talking for the night.

With nothing else to do, though knowing I was done with sleep, I climbed into the bed and turned my attention to the TV. I patted the bed and watched one of the dogs tilt his head at me like he was trying to figure out if I was gesturing for him or not.

"Do they have names?" I yelled over the TV, not bothering to turn my attention to the grumpy giant.

"Harley and Chopper," he answered, not needing to raise his voice because the depth in it carried even in the loudest of situations.

Unable to help myself, I turned, a ridiculous grin on my face. "Seriously?" How cliche was that? A biker who named his dogs after bikes? I mean... come on. To that I got a brow raise. "You're ridiculous," I concluded, patting the bed again. "Come on, Harley," I called to the dog staring me down. But he stood still and the bed depressed from behind me and the other hell beast climbed up with me. "So you're Harley," I said, tentatively reaching out to touch his back. "Come on, Chopper," I called to the other dog who bounded at me when he finally got the invitation he needed.

With their two huge forms sprawled out, the bed no longer seemed as massive and empty. I put a hand on each dog and gave them scratches, leaning forward as if confiding a secret and declaring, "I am going to win you guys over and then you are going to help bust me outta this joint."

"Don't count on it," Wolf's voice said and my head snapped up to find him sitting in his chair, eyes closed. How he had even heard was completely beyond my comprehension.

"Don't listen to him. He's just a grumpy giant. A day with me, you'll be begging to change your alliances, right? I bet he doesn't even let you sleep in the bed with him."

"Wouldn't all fit."

"No one is talking to you," I called, not bothering to look up. "We're having a private conversation, prisoner to jailers. The warden can go get bent."

I wasn't certain, but I was pretty sure I heard actual genuine laughter coming from behind me.

SIX

Janie

As predicted, I didn't sleep. Wolf, however, did. As did my hell beasts. I sat up watching infomercials and wondering if I tried to sneak out of the cabin if I would get very far. I decided on not and around sunup, I hauled it into the bathroom and took the longest shower in recorded history just to waste some time.

When I finally got out, Wolf was sitting on the bed, watching the door as if he had been waiting for me to emerge. My hell beasts were gone, leaving me to wonder if they hunted their own food or something. Wolf seemed like the kind of owner who might encourage that.

I immediately regretted the fact that I hadn't fished around for a new tee to slip into before I went into the bathroom. While, unlike Wolf, I was slight and the towel had plenty of give and covered a huge chunk of flesh, I still felt naked when his eyes slid a little too slowly up my body. "Arm?" he asked, jerking his chin at the appendage in question.

"It's fine," I shrugged, fighting the urge to check the knot to the side of my chest.

To that, I got a very long-suffering sigh as Wolf unfolded from the bed and walked toward me. "Arm," he said and I took that to mean: show me your arm. When I didn't immediately move to show it to him, he grabbed it at the wrist and hauled it up. He inspected it for a minute as his thumb stroked over my pulse point on my wrist, leaving me to wonder if he was doing it deliberately or subconsciously. Either way, it was distracting. In the same way it had been distracting when his forehead was on mine, and when his hands were cupping my face, and when he wrapped my arm, and when he asked if I was alright after my nightmare, and pretty much any time his gaze was focused on me.

Jeez.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I needed to get a grip.

"Wolf..." I heard myself say, the sound a quiet whisper.

But he heard and his gaze rose to mine. His hand pulled my arm down to my side, but his fingers stayed around my wrist. His other hand rose, hovering in the air near my clavicle for a second before moving forward and brushing the droplets of water from my wet hair off my skin. My entire body shuddered hard at the sensation and his eyes flew to my face.

"Janie," he said, his voice rougher than usual and I had the sneaking suspicion it was that way because of desire.

That realization sent a matching current of arousal through my body, foreign but familiar like a long-forgotten memory hazily resurfacing. My name sounded strange on his lips, intimate, like a secret. I liked it a little bit too much. And that was absolutely terrifying.

Wolf's eyes closed tightly, staying that way for a long moment before he opened them on an exhale. His hand dropped and he flew away from me like I burned him. He rummaged around in the closet then threw himself into the bathroom. The water came on while I was still frozen in the same spot, heart pounding, skin feeling electric, not sure what the heck was happening. I turned toward the bathroom door, watching as if it had answers for me.

Behind it, I heard a sound, something deep and guttural that I didn't have to know to
know.
It was accompanied by a slamming sound, like his fist hitting the shower wall. And I knew what he was doing. And I knew he had just reached completion. And I also knew I had something to do with that. That knowledge brought a strange surge of both confidence and desire. Wet pooled between my legs, shocking me enough to snap out of my strange little fog.

What the fuck?

I was not, was absolutely
not
turned on by Wolf.

I was never turned on by
anyone.
My body didn't work that way.

And I wasn't like... flattered that he thought about me when he jacked off either. That was crazy. He was quite literally holding me captive. There was no longer making excuses like he was trying to hide me from the cops who were swarming everywhere. It had been two nights. There was no reason for him to keep me there. Except that he was being a total creepy kidnapper.

I threw myself backward onto the bed, feet dangling off the end like a kid, and covered my face in my hands. He needed to leave. He needed to leave and I needed to trick Harley and Chopper into letting me outside somehow. Then I needed to get the hell out of there. Because, fact of the matter was, I was going stir crazy. That was why I was getting all weird about Wolf. I had nothing to do to occupy my mind and it was looping over things it needed not to.

Like the fact that Lex Keith was very likely still alive. It was a fact I couldn't confirm because I had no friggen computer or cell phone or anything to tap into the dark web or the city cameras. Chances were he was still out there causing his particular reign of terror. And I had been given a chance of ending that and I failed. I failed at saving a ton of future people from him. I failed at trying to erase my demons. And in failing to do all of that, I fucked up my entire life for no good reason. I had convinced myself that if it worked, if I took him out... it would all be worth it: losing my home, losing the respect of my coworkers, ruining my friendship with Lo.

Now it was all for nothing.

And I could never go back.

I could never go back and going forward meant going into something new and unknown. What was I supposed to do? Get a day job? Work at a computer company fixing hard drives ruined by malicious porn sites? Work at a bookstore? Get an overnight job so no one thought it was weird that I didn't sleep like a normal person? I couldn't pop back up on the radar of the criminal underbelly. Not without Hailstorm around to back me up. I was very likely going to find myself on the hit lists of at least three criminal organizations. If I popped up, they would know and they would find me. So I had to go straight. I had to bury the parts of me that knew the best way to construct a bomb; I had to forget that I could bring any corporation to its knees by hacking into their mainframe; I had to pretend I didn't know Krav Maga and how to assemble a M-16 as fast as a soldier in basic training.

Jstorm would disappear.

Leaving me just Janie again for the first time in eight years.

I wasn't sure I would even recognize her anymore.

But if what I had been getting a taste of the past two days in the woods was anything to go by, I would not adjust well. Already, the walls I had built between me and the things that had happened to me were crumbling. I was having a problem controlling my emotions. I was losing my shit.

Great.

"Arm."

Augh. I was getting really sick of him not talking to me like a normal person. Like... really sick of it. I kind of wanted to smack him every time he tried to communicate an entire sentence in a word. "Fuck off," I said, not bothering to open my eyes.

"Suit yourself," he growled, sounding about as patient as I felt that morning as he reached down and grabbed my arm, dragging it up roughly enough to nearly pull it from its socket. My eyes shot open, surprised. Everything about him had been gentle toward me before. His strength was a threat he kept reined in carefully, never putting his hands on me with anything but the gentlest of touches. There was a noticeable tension in him even after a shower and, um, the activities in the shower. His shoulders were stiff, his brows drawn low, his mouth in a firm line. He dropped my wrist and started wrapping my arm with moist gauze. But this time, he wasn't carefully laying it down, fingers soft and deft. No, he was wrapping it around my arm with the same kind of carelessly violent way one wraps a vacuum chord up after a long day at work only to come home to find the dog had knocked over one of your potted plants and there was dirt everywhere. He did it with a sort of resigned frustration.

Well... fuck him.

I jerked my arm back out of his reach. "I'll do it myself if you're going to be a dickhead about it," I growled.

His eyes rose to mine, searching my face for a long minute before he let out a sigh. He held out his arm, palm open, like he was expecting me to put my arm there. He could expect all he wanted; he wasn't getting my cooperation. "Janie," he said, his voice quiet, but there was still a hint of frustration there.

"I don't know what you have to be frustrated about," I told him, watching his face. "I believe I'm the one being held somewhere against their will with the threat of being mauled if I tried to step foot over the threshold and absolutely nothing to do all day or all night when I can't sleep. Like... seriously. You have no right to be all grumpy and rough with me when the only reason I am here is because you, for fuck-knows what reason, are keeping me here. You wouldn't have to wrap my arm every day if you would let me go."