TWELVE
Kennedy
His hand wasn't on my boob.
That was literally the first thought I had upon waking up.
Before my eyes were even open, I felt the lack of contact that had, as odd as it was, been a strange kind of comfort as I slowly drifted off the night before. Maybe a large part of that was the fact that the breast he had held gently, possessively, but sweetly held in his hand in what was absolutely not a sexual contact, was the same one Ethan had abused earlier, the nipple sore even then. It felt like he had somehow eased the sting, had wiped a bit of the bad memory away by being so sweet.
Really, everything about Pagan from when he stepped into my salon had been... surprising. I guess that was the best way to phrase it. Other words that might have applied are: uncharacteristic, patient, understanding, sweet, gentle. None of those words were ones that would come to mind when you thought of the badass cage-fighting, arms-dealing biker covered in scars, surrounded by a cloud of smoke, smelling of leather and whiskey, and sometimes, the slightest hint of blood.
But he had been all of those things.
He had held me as I cried, not trying to feed me hollow words, but just being a support system. He asked the hard questions because he had to. Then he got me out of there. He got into the tub with me. He cuddled me there and surprised me by offering himself up as a sounding board.
Then, on top of that all, he climbed into bed and willingly spooned me again, reaching for my boob because, well, he was still Pagan. And, quite frankly, I needed that laugh.
Perfect.
He had been surprisingly, almost alarmingly perfect from start to finish.
So perfect, in fact, that I found all the anger and resentment I had been building over the previous three days completely melting away. Sure, that was a dick move to disappear. But that being said, when I needed him, even though we didn't mean anything to each other, he had been there.
That was a good man.
And yet I woke up alone.
I rolled onto my back, the sheets cold behind me, making my skin goosebump a bit, making me reach toward the blanket at my hips to pull it up. The bruises on my knees were ugly, but I could cover them with maxi skirts until they went away. The small smattering across my ribs wasn't as bad as I had expected, thankfully. I had a feeling, though, that I would be nowhere near as lucky about my face.
But, I assured myself as I forced myself to fold upward, that was what makeup was for, right?
I got up, snagging a tee out of Pagan's dresser, and moving into the bathroom to brush my teeth and assess the damage. It wasn't pretty. Purple, blue, and a hint of both red and yellow around the edges took up a good chunk of my cheek below my eye and into my hairline.
But it was just a bruise.
Bruises faded.
I slipped into Pagan's tee, realizing I was yet again in a situation where all I had with me was a dress. And, quite frankly, that dress was never getting anywhere near my body ever again. I wanted it burned.
There was a soft knock at the door as I finger combed my hair.
"It's me, angel," a voice called through. It was Cyrus. Of course it was. Granted, I hadn't met a whole lot of The Henchmen, certainly not for long enough to get to know any of them, but Cyrus seemed like maybe he was the more laid-back and sweet of them. "Open up; I have something for you."
I walked to the door, pulling it open, and finding him standing there with a pair of women's pajama pants. "Do I want to know where you got those?"
"Okay, so I stole them from Summer's room. She won't mind, I promise," he said, handing me the pink cotton pants with little white flowers, making me wonder who Summer was and if she would truly feel that way. "She just had a baby not that long ago," he added, moving in casually. "She won't be fitting in them for another couple of months at least."
I nodded, carefully pulling them on, making sure I didn't flash anything at Cyrus as he sat at the foot of the bed, casual as could be.
"Where's Pagan? I asked, figuring he would know.
"He had to run out for a bit, but he'll be back. Meanwhile, there is fresh coffee and bagels in the kitchen. I'd cook for you, sweets, but I don't have the skills. That's for Repo, Laz, and Edison."
"Yeah, 'cause I bet you just flash that smile and have all the girls tripping over themselves to make you something to eat." His lips worked up to a smirk, his eyes going wicked. "Not what I meant," I said with a smile.
"But that is a good meal to start a day with, wouldn't you say?" he asked, standing. "But it's not on the menu today, so let's go get our bagel on."
Feeling weird about being in the compound, especially with Pagan gone, I followed closely behind Cyrus as we walked into the common room where the guys from the night before were hanging around, but so was a new group.
One was tall and lean, dark-haired, green-eyed, everything about him seeming to hum with authority. "Kennedy, this is Reign," Cyrus said, happily making introductions.
Reign's eyes went to my cheek, jaw going a little hard, but he nodded at me. "Babe." That was all I got.
"And this is Wolf," Cy went on, motioning to the man beside Reign. He was a giant. Truly, I think he was descendant from them. He was tall and wide with dark hair, a full dark beard, and haunting honey-colored eyes.
Like Reign, he stiffened at seeing me. "Woman," he ground out, jerking his chin, then, oddly, disappearing out the back door with a slam.
"Don't mind him," yet another male voice said, drawing my attention to a tall, lean, tattooed man with half of his head shaved to peach fuzz and the other half with long blond hair. You didn't see it at first because of the hair color, but if you looked closer, it was in the bone structure and the eyes. This guy was Reign's brother. "He doesn't like seeing women with bruises. I mean, none of us do, but Wolf takes it personally. I'm Cash."
"Kennedy," I said, giving him a small smile, glad that he was a little less intimidating than the rest.
"We're getting our breakfast on," Cyrus announced, holding an arm out to a door that led into the small kitchen. "They're a lot to take in all at once, but everyone here is harmless." At my brow raise, he smiled. "Okay, they're all lethal weapons actually. But they would never put a hand on you. First, because they are good men and don't do that kind of thing. Second, if they even thought of it, let's just say that what Pagan would do to them is enough a deterrent. Syrup shit?" he asked, holding out two bottles of syrup- one caramel, one mocha.
"Ah... I guess I can try the caramel," I said with a smile, almost feeling a little spoiled since I never indulged in things like flavored coffee.
"Alright, don't worry, I got it," a voice said, coming in. I had seen him before. He had been there the first night of the party and also the night before when I came in, but I hadn't spoken to him yet. He was tall and a sturdy strong with very attractive Puerto Rican coloring, a chiseled jaw, sweet brown eyes, and a smile that revealed a hint of a dimple to one side.
I looked at Cy who looked as equally confused as the man brought out what I recognized as a leather cut since literally everyone around the compound wore one.
"I don't understand," I admitted, watching him.
"See, this is an MC, mami," he explained, the smile in no way lessening. "And there are all these ridiculous rules about things like this. Really, it's completely antiquated, but you need to wear this."
"I need to wear a cut?" I asked, face scrunching up all the more.
"Not a Henchmen cut per se," he said, taking it and turning it. And, sure enough, instead of The Henchmen name in patches there, there were patches that spelled out something else entirely.
And that something else, oddly, made my cheeks heat a little.
"Property of Pagan?" I repeated out loud as he held it out for me to take, which I did.
The man rolled back on his heels, nodding a little resignedly, exhaling on a sigh. "I'm afraid so. Old ladies have to wear them."
Old ladies.
That, I was pretty sure, meant a biker's girlfriend or wife.
But I was neither of those.
I looked over at Cyrus, finding his eyes light, his lips twitching. "Really?" I asked him.
"Roderick wouldn't steer you wrong," he said, shrugging, making me feel oddly out of the loop, like they got something that I didn't.
But I did understand that in an MC, in any kind of criminal enterprise really, traditions were really important. Rules needed to be obeyed. With who I was pretty sure was the MC president in the other room, I really had no place to object.
I took the material and slipped it on, maybe finding a small bit of comfort in it because the leather smell was one I was familiar with. It clung to Pagan's skin.
"Anything else I need? Ear tag? Cattle brand on my ass?"
To that, both Cyrus and Roderick let out a laugh. "You're gonna fit in just fine here, kid," Roderick said, despite maybe only being a year older than me tops.
So then, well, we all kind of just... hung out.
Absurd, I know.
I was just... hanging out with a bunch of outlaw bikers.
Cyrus, Roderick, and I got food and went back into the common room where I officially met Sugar, Virgin, Roan, and Reeve. Reeve who was Cy's brother, which seemed odd given how polar opposite they were.
And, it was strange, but I swear they were all like... smiling and laughing behind my back for some reason. But I could never actually catch one doing it to call them on it, and I couldn't figure out why they would do it in the first place, so I kind of just chalked it up to me being a bit uncomfortable in their presence and let it go.
"Oh!" I said suddenly, making all their eyes go to me, guarded, like I was about to break into hysterics.
"What's up, baby cakes?" Cy asked, brows drawn together.
"I, ah, I forgot to... call Benny. He's my employee. It's over an hour after opening. He's probably wondering..." - Why the place was a mess? Why my shoes were still on the floor?
"It's cool," Cy said, shrugging. "Pagan called him and talked to him."
"Talked to him and told him what?" I asked, tone guarded, not overly comfortable with the idea of Pagan giving him the whole truth. Why? I wasn't sure. It just made my belly feel weird. Maybe a part of it was because Benny was always telling me to be careful around Ethan.
But that was absurd.
It wasn't my fault he tried to maul me like an animal.
"Don't know what he told him, just know he said you wouldn't be in today. And that if he wanted to see you, that you're here."
Well, that made me feel mildly better.
He probably thought I was having a sexathon, something I knew he had been thinking I needed over the past few days with my foul mood. That being said, I was going to need to tell him. You know, once I figured out what I was going to do about it.
I needed to go to the police, right?
There didn't seem to really be a choice there, even though the idea of that made my belly feel all liquid and weird. I had to press charges. I had to make the police aware of what he was capable of. I didn't think he would necessarily get locked up for it, but maybe he would get some kind of punishment. Maybe it would leave a paper trail in case some other poor girl got hurt by him. It would show a pattern.
I took a deep breath, the decision made. I was going to go and file a report, give them the footage from the cameras. Then they could go from there and decide what to do.
Once Pagan got back, I was going to ask him to take me home so I could get a decent outfit on, then bring me.
Maybe he would stay with me during it.
I shook my head at myself, taking a deep breath. I needed to not think things like that. True, he had been good to me the night before. And maybe I had his name across my back, but that didn't mean anything. Right? We were just... nothing to each other really. Just... bodies.
There was a distinct sinking feeling inside at that thought, reminding me again how in trouble I was on this front. Because on the one hand, I knew it was smart to just stay away from him. On the other, though, I knew how unlikely that was. I was into him. If he crooked a finger, I was pretty sure I would follow him. Likely, knowing him, into his bedsheets. I also knew that, to do that, would likely lead to real, genuine, impossible to ignore feelings toward him.
But, maybe that was just something I would think about when it came to pass. Why couldn't I just enjoy things as they progressed?
Maybe it would eventually lead to hurt feelings or even heartbreak, but was that really enough reason- possible future pain- not to enjoy something I wanted in the present?
I had always been someone to plot, to plan, to write pro and con lists, to know exactly what I was getting into. That was how I got out of the bad area of town. That was how I opened a business when everyone I knew and the very economy was telling me it would be a failed endeavor. That was how, despite seemingly insurmountable opposition, I just barely managed to hold onto it, even though it meant the kind of belt tightening that almost cut off circulation.
That being said, had that ever gotten me anywhere in relationships? I was pretty sure my present (and long standing) singledom had proven maybe I needed to ease up and go with the flow a little.
It wasn't that I was thinking that I could change Pagan per se. It wasn't even to say that I thought he was someone that I should want to settle down with. Really, he was a terrible choice if you really looked at him. But so what? So what if we kept... doing what we were doing and I maybe started having feelings? So what if they were one-sided? So what if I needed to drown that in a container of store brand ice cream and five-dollar wine? Chances were, even if I didn't take the chance on him, I would find other, lesser things to ice cream and wine binge over anyway. Might as well make it count, right?
Feeling oddly antsy just sitting there, maybe getting a little freaked that Pagan still hadn't returned, I offered to gather the plates and cups and clean up the breakfast mess. And, given that they were a bunch of dudes who likely really didn't want to be stuck with the task in the first place, not a single one put up a fight, giving me a few blissful moments alone in the kitchen as I handled that and then, just for good measure, gave the whole area a good scrub, figuring with a compound full of guys, that it had likely been a while.
It was almost eleven in the morning when I finally heard a car outside, making me stiffen, internally reminding myself that it was an MC, and to not get my hopes up. It could be anyone.
But I had a feeling it was him.
I washed my hands, self-consciously flattened my hair, all the time knowing that no amount of hair fuss was going to change the fact that I looked like shit thanks to my messed up face, but still wanting to look decent for him regardless, then I made my way out into the common room.
"The fuck do you have on?" Yeah, that was my greeting from Pagan, perfectly characteristic if you ask me.
I felt a surge of insecurity, worrying that maybe I should have made it clear to Roderick earlier that Pagan and I were just... screwing around, that I wasn't his old lady or whatever. Pagan probably didn't want his name on my back if we were just casual. Right?
And it was right about then that all the men in the common room, aside from Pagan who was looking at me with drawn-in brows, were laughing their asses off.
"What's so funny?" I asked, looking at Cyrus as he composed himself.
He shook his head, eyes bright.
It was Roderick who stood, towering over me, making me have to angle my head up to look at him. His charming dimple was on display as he walked up and chucked me under the chin. "I was just fucking with you, mami," he told me, eyes dancing.
"Fucking with me?" I repeated, still not catching on.
"Henchmen old ladies don't wear their man's name on their back," Roderick explained.
"I think they would chop off the balls of any man who told them to actually," Cyrus added.
I felt my lips curve up, shaking my head. "You guys suck," I declared. "Especially you," I added, lowering my eyes at Roderick in mock anger.
"Just having a little fun, mami," he said, winking, then moving off.
"I had no idea," I said, looking at Pagan, willing him not to think I was being some creepy, clingy chick like that, as I reached to pull off the cut.
"Leave it," he said instead, yanking it back up on my shoulders once he was close enough.
And with his hands raised, it was the first time I got a good look.
One thing was infinitely clear- Pagan had just gotten into a fight. Again.
And don't ask me why, but somehow, I knew who was the recipient of that beating.
"What did you do?" I asked, my voice a strange, hollow whisper.