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“We’re always happy to welcome another Henchman. Especially a legacy,” Ares said, barely disguising the disdain in his voice. Luckily, Ronin had his head too far up his own ass to notice.
Ronin went back to the others, but Jace didn’t move. Ares found he couldn’t either.
He was stuck staring at the kid. He wasn’t really that much of a kid. He’d heard Ronin mention Jace before. Something about him turning eighteen soon.
“When’s your birthday?”
Jace gave him a dubious look he wasn’t sure how to interpret.
“Today,” Jace croaked out.
Ah. So that was why he was prospecting now. You had to be eighteen to join the club per their bylaws. Gears didn’t like the legal shit that came with having minors involved. Ares tended to agree. He didn’t even like when the hang-arounds were underage.
The Henchmen wore their one-percenter patch with pride and with the shit they got involved in, the last thing they needed were kids hanging around.
“What does that mean?” Jace asked, pointing at the front of Ares’ cut.
Ares glanced down, trying to determine which of his many patches Jace meant.
“V.P.?”
Jace nodded, nibbling on his bottom lip. He really shouldn’t have found that as hot as he did. He needed to get himself under control.
“It means I’m the Vice President.”
Jace’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he wobbled for a second before dropping his gaze to the ground and rubbing his hands over his jeans.
“So, there’s a president, too?”
He couldn’t help but scoff.
The kid really didn’t know shit all about the club. Ronin seriously thought this was a good idea? How the fuck had he convinced Gears to let Jace prospect? Fuck. The kid was too fucking innocent to be around them. He’d get chewed up and spat out in less than a month.
Jace stared at him with those gorgeous hazel eyes of his and Ares cursed himself because there was no way he could let him fail. Not when he knew what Ronin would do to Jace if he did.
He would protect Jace. He just couldn’t let anyone know he was doing it, because that wouldn’t go over well with Ronin and the last thing he needed was that psycho getting mad at him.
CHAPTER THREE
Jace
THIS WAS probably the worst thing he’d ever done, and he didn’t even have a choice. He didn’t know what Ronin would do to him if he failed, he just knew it’d be worse than anything he could imagine.
Prospecting had been one thing. Getting bossed around and abused? He was used to that. But this? This was a whole other thing. He’d never done anything illegal in his whole life. At least not something he could go to prison for.
He knew he should consider himself lucky that Ronin hadn’t been able to choose what his initiation would be. Gears was fortunately in charge. Not that he thought breaking, entering, and stealing was that lovely of a choice. He was breaking into a building owned by a rival gang to steal a baseball bat that apparently meant a lot to them. And by ‘meant a lot,’ he was pretty sure Gears had meant that they used it to beat the shit out of people. He hadn’t asked, though. He’d rather not know. He was already way out of his depths.
He was standing outside the building, hiding in the shadows, while trying not to have a nervous breakdown. He wasn’t anywhere near successful, even though he knew the gang wasn’t around. He was still breaking in and stealing.
At least he hadn’t been tasked with killing or hurting anyone. Ronin would’ve loved that.
He heard footsteps behind him and whirled around, hands shaking as he raised his gun.
“Put that down before you hurt yourself,” Ares said, appearing in front of him.
Jace breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his gun.
“Jesus.” He swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”
