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She laughed, shaking her head. “I can't come again,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I think four times is my max. My legs feel like jello.”
I laughed. Laughed. I never fucking laughed. But I laughed. Then made a grab for her, rolling her onto her back and putting my body over hers. “Care to test that theory?” I asked, running my mouth between her tits, down her stomach.
“Reign... I can't...” she objected, sounding airy.
“We'll see,” I said, my face going between her legs.
We did see.
And she could.**“Fuck,” I growled, getting up off the bed and pacing the room.
That was why I couldn't sleep. Not just the idea that she was being hurt again, that she was getting more reasons to scream at night. But the memories of the short time we got to spend together. Then I had to fucking leave her for some shitty meeting with the Russians. Which led fucking nowhere.
If I had been there, there would have been no way she would have been taken.
Mainly because we spent most of our damn time naked in bed. Or the shower.
No way would she have been outside.
Certainly not with a fucking probate like Flee.
I tore out of my room, going out into the main area, empty but for Wolf and Cash.
“What's going on?” I asked, sensing the tension in the room.
“We're both going,” Cash supplied.
My head was shaking before he even stopped talking. “No. I need one of you here. You know that. And you know it's supposed to be you, Cash. But if you're hellbent on goin', it can be Wolf here.”
Wolf was shaking his head. “Goin' too,” he said.
“Wolf. I need you...”
“Good woman,” he said, looking at me, his eyes firm.
She was a good woman. And it hadn't exactly escaped my notice that she and Wolf had gotten on. Fuck if I knew how seeing as he almost never spoke. But then again, half the time Summer didn't shut up. So I guessed it could work. He had been bringing her down to the basement little by little to get her over her fear so she could do her laundry. He was soft with her. Well, as soft as a man as hard as he could be. She brought that out. And that meant something to him.
“Fuck,” I said, leaning against the bar. “Who then?” I asked, looking between them.
Cash shrugged. “Vin. For the day, Vin.”
He really was the only option. Which I wasn't overly happy about. Vin was good. Stable. Level-headed. All for the brotherhood. But he tended to be too black and white. And with the gray shit we had going on...
“I guess he'll do for a day. So long as he reverts all decisions to me. Shit should be calm now. We'll keep Repo on Lyon. Tell everyone else to stay the fuck out of the shed.”
“First light?” Wolf asked, looking anxious to get going.
“First light,” I agreed. None of us were going to bother with sleep anyway.
So we sat, watched out the window, and waited.
–Lo's compound was named. As in there was a huge as fuck green sign out front with white print on it, staked with steel beams into the ground like a road sign on a highway.
Hailstorm.
That was it. It was named Hailstorm.
I shared a look with Cash who shrugged, looking past the sign and behind the gates. It had been months since I had seen the property. Probably closer to a year. Lo had expanded. Red, blue, and green shipping containers were everywhere, some connected, forming a big outer hollow square building. In the center was a small brick building. There were other outer laying containers, standing alone. Each with a man or two walking the surface, looking into the distance.
The dogs were everywhere too. Alert. Sniffing. Their heads jerking when they caught an unfamiliar scent.
Beside the containers were huge white barrels for water catching. Toward the back of the property, there was a field of solar panels.
Not only was Lo some kind of psycho. He was some sort of prepper.
“Fucking hell,” I said, shaking my head as we pulled up to the front gates.
“Too late now,” Cash said, smiling, his thoughts aligned with mine.
Even as he said it, all eyes were turned on us, guns raised, dogs hauling ass to greet us with foaming mouths and snarls.
A few minutes later, a lone figure walked out from the door of the center shipping container. Tall. Bald head. Dark midnight skin. Strong build. The undeniable posture of ex military. He walked casually toward us, no guns. But he didn't need one when at least ten were aimed at us.
“Henchmen?” he asked, his brows drawing down.
“We got something to discuss with Lo,” I supplied.
“Got a death wish?” he asked, flashing white teeth.
“Got a situation,” I said, shrugging.
“And you want Lo to be involved?” he asked as if it was the craziest thing he had ever heard.
“Maybe. That's why we're here. To feel him out.”
To this, he smiled wider. “Alright,” he said, shrugging. Then he walked over to a booth, hitting some buttons until the gate started to open.
“Not even gonna ask if we're packing?” Cash asked and I glared at him. We were packing. Of course we were.
“You think it'd matter?” he asked, gesturing toward the men all around, a few more coming out of the wood works to watch us.
“Got a point,” Cash said, casual as ever. As if we weren't walking into a damn fortress run by a known madman.
We were led over to the shipping container the guy had first stepped out of, finding absolutely nothing inside but a bunch of boots and jackets. Then straight through a steel door to another room. Some kind of meeting area. Then into a living space. Open floor plan. Kitchen/ dining/ living in one. Small, but comfortable. No windows, but more than enough overhead, standing, and table lamps to make up for it. The light a little off and I wondered if it was UV lighting to make up for the lack of sun.
