Reeve Read online Jessica Gadziala (The Henchmen MC, #11)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Henchmen MC Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
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That was fair enough.

In Reign's place, I likely wouldn't hear this shit at all unless there was proof. In his place, there were too many other things that were real that needed his attention. Like the run that was going down in two days. A big one. An unusually big one. One that was going to take most of the men away from the compound for over a week. With a new contact. That shit was enough to keep him up at night. He wouldn't stand for this on top of that.

Not without genuine evidence.

That being said, if there was one man whose instincts I trusted implicitly, it was Roan's. I had spent too many nights by his side after Lyon got capped not to know he knew his shit.

"What do you think we should do?"

"Watch," he said immediately, like he was anticipating the question. "'Round the clock if we can while Reign deals with this run. If we see shit, we say shit. If not, we keep it to ourselves until we know for sure."

That seemed like a fair plan.

"Are we letting Cy, Pagan, and Sugar in on this?" I asked, knowing they would be staying behind with us to keep an eye on the compound. Reign wanted to leave either Cash, Wolf, or Repo as well, but he was worried he might need his best hands on the road. His compromise was leaving me and Cy, who were likely the least experienced along with Roan, Sugar, and Pagan who were all extremely capable in their own ways.

"After they leave," Roan agreed. "Just so they are on alert in case this isn't just a bad wind blowing for one of the other syndicates."

"Alright. Got it. You wanna go get some rest?" I asked, watching the orange and pink start to streak across the sky. "I'm not sleeping tonight," I added, knowing Roan would go without sleep for a week on end if I didn't offer here and there to keep an eye, so he could catch up on sleep.

"Alright. Come get me when you need to turn in," he said, clamping a hand on my shoulder, moving to go past me, then stopping suddenly. "One fucked up man to another," he started unexpectedly, gaze down, not even attempting eye-contact, "sometimes you just gotta let shit happen."

With that, his hand released my shoulder, and he disappeared down the ladder.

As I turned out toward the world, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he didn't mean about whatever bad vibe he was picking up.

He meant between Rey and me.

I exhaled hard, running a hand up the back of my neck, almost able to still feel her hands there. When she had tried to coax me out of pushing her away, when she offered me everything I wanted. Which was nothing I felt I could have.

Maybe Roan was right.

Maybe you did have to let shit happen in life, place your bets, let the chips fall where they may.

If I were a more selfish person, I would do that.

Because there was no denying how much I wanted that woman.

I had been stiff the second she opened that door, and I could see her nipples poking out of her shirt and nothing but a small swatch of fabric covering a place I had a strong, almost overwhelming urge to bury my face in, to get a taste of her.

It was an exercise in superhuman self-control to keep my hands to myself as she moved in closer to me in that kitchen, as she stood next to me, smelling like that fucking lavender shit she washed her clothes in, that I had caught myself taking deep breaths of while wearing my jacket during the stakeout like some fucking lovesick teenager.

But then she shivered, man.

And she wasn't fucking cold.

There was only so much a man could take.

I had even convinced myself that if I just kissed her, I could get her out of my system. That it was simply the appeal of the unknown that had me so distracted with thoughts of her.

But then I felt her lips react to mine, her body melt into me, her moans fill my ears, her legs wrap around me, her hips grind against me, begging for more.

And, yeah, no.

There was no getting her out of my system.

Not even if I had stayed.

Not even if I got her into her bed for hours.

Not even then.

There was no manly way to say that I fucking liked the woman, plain and simple. Didn't know her very well. Yet that didn't mean shit.

I wanted to.

I guess that was the problem.

She wasn't some chick from a bar that I took back to the compound because it was expected, some clubwhore who knew what the drill was.

I just wanted to get to know her.


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