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Then he did.
But he wasn't alone.
No, he was pulling a man along with him. A man with his hands cuffed behind his back.
He was tall and strong with long dark hair that he had in a bun at the crown of his head and a full dark beard. His eyes were dark too- almost black. Everything about him elicited the immediate feeling of danger.
The man was dangerous.
It was also almost painfully clear he was not Italian.
If I had to put my money on anything, it would be Romanian.
"Reign..." Summer said, stiffening, pulling away from her husband. I could practically hear her brain screaming: there are kids here.
"This fuck is Edison. We found him chained up in Little Ricky's basement," Reign supplied, waving a careless hand toward the men.
"Smells like a gin joint in here," Repo observed suddenly. I stiffened, thinking it was chastisement, before he broke into a grin. "Forgot what that was like. It's like old times."
"Penny," Duke said suddenly and I realized the bouncy, happy Penny had deflated beside me.
Because if I thought Repo was a mess, Duke took the cake. One of his eyes were almost swollen shut; his lip was split; there was a long gash down the side of his neck, and his hands were so ripped open that the healing process was going to be long and painful because anytime he stretched his fingers, it was going to rip scabs open.
Her head turned, looking up at me a little hopelessly.
"Fell in love with a biker, blondie. Get used to blood," I told her, pushing her forward and she slowly closed the space between her as Edison moved out of the way, watching Penny with an interest that wasn't sexual in the least as she walked up to Duke, refusing to step into his arms.
"I don't want to hurt you," she insisted about half a second before Duke grabbed her and lifted her off her feet by her ass as his lips claimed hers.
"Since when do you guys take prisoners?" Lo asked, having come in from the garage unnoticed, her eyes looking over Edison.
"Long story, sweetheart," Cash said, giving her a small smile. "I can tell you all about it in bed," he told her, grabbing her and pulling her down the hall.
"Lame ass party with only three of you drinking," Reign declared, tucking his woman under his arm and walking toward us.
"Is is a victory one now?" Cyrus asked, looking almost green from the booze he had been downing for my benefit.
Reign looked over to me, nodding. "We can walk around again without having to worry," he said. "We gotta go wash up and see our kids. After that, we'll fill you in. Whoever is sober enough to be trusted around fire, make some food. It's going to be a late night," he added before moving off toward the hall.
"Yeah, I better clean up too," Duke said, putting Penny back on her feet as Repo and Maze disappeared. "You can keep an eye on him for a bit, right?" he asked as he reached into his pocket for a key and unlocked one of Edison's wrists, moving them forward and cuffing them in the front. "Give him something to drink too," he said as Edison walked over toward us.
"Vodka, whiskey, gin, beer or tequila?" Cyrus asked as the silent, intimidating presence moved to stand beside where he was sitting.
"Vodka," he ground out, his voice so low and gravely it was almost hard to understand.
"Here you go, man," he said, handing him the bottle he had been holding. "Think I'm cured of vodka for the next year or five."
Edison closed both his hands around the bottle and brought it up, tipping his head back and chugging the contents.
"That's not juice, man," Cyrus half-laughed as he kept downing the clear liquid.
He didn't bring the bottle down until the crazy mother fucker drank almost all of what was left- which was two-thirds the bottle.
"Haven't had a drink in three months," he supplied in that same guttural growl of his.
"It'll do you no good if it all comes back up though," Cyrus said, shaking his head.
"Been drinking since I was thirteen. Save for that first time, I've never been sick. But thanks for the warning. Where the fuck am I right now?" he asked, looking around the room with its lack of windows or any real decoration.
"The Henchmen MC compound," I supplied, motioning toward my cut as I did so.
"Fucking Jersey?" he asked, grimacing.
"Where you from?" I asked.
"Everywhere," he hedged.
"Drop a pin," I suggested.
"Philly, when I am not on the road."
"What the fuck did you do to get yourself locked up in Little Ricky's basement for three months?"
"Got a real problem with pimps, especially the type who use fists on their women. He didn't like that I had a problem with pimps and therefore had a problem with me."
