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Reign and his Henchmen were in a period of general peace after the shitstorm that hit our town when his father’s leadership was tested and ended with half of his men and himself dead, making Reign take the role young. But that didn’t mean they were weak. While Reign wasn’t a fan of chaotic violence for the fuck of it like his father was, Ryan was right, he ran a tight ship. His ranks were small, but growing, and he didn’t tolerate any of them bringing undue scrutiny on his organization. That being said, he had blood on his hands. Hell, he likely had more on his hands than I did and I had bathtubs full of the shit on me. The difference was that I didn’t take lives; Reign did. Not often and only when it was needed, but it happened.
So stepping to him, even about one of his men fucking up, didn’t exactly feel right.
I threw on my jeans and white tee and drove over toward the main street in town, parking out front the gates to The Henchmen compound which was a low, windowless building that had once been a mechanic shop on a large piece of land. Probates were seen at all hours, walking around the perimeter, keeping it safe. I got out of my car and grabbed a crowbar, hooking it into the belt loop behind my back, and made my way up to the gates.
“I need to talk to Reign,” I said to one of the probates who stood there in his cut, arms crossed over his chest. He was young for them, definitely no older than his early twenties with dark hair, light blue eyes that suggested they had seen some shit, and a scar running down the whole side of his face. I knew him by sight and his reputation as classic car restorer. Repo.
“Shredder,” Repo said to the other one standing nearby, “go see if Reign has a minute.”
With that, the other kid ran off inside the building where, even in the middle of the day, I knew a fair amount of bikers were hanging around, drinking, fucking, or bullshitting.
I hoped Mo was one of them. It would make my life easier.
“Mallick, huh?” A deep, gravely voice called as he walked out of the building. Reign was tall with a medium strong build, dark hair, and light green eyes. He had one of those faces chicks soaked their panties over, all jaw and brows. “Repo, you can head in,” he told the probate in the dismissive kind of way the older bikers always spoke to the young bloods. “Which one are you? You fucks all look the same.”
“Shane,” I said, not offended. I had been hearing that shit my entire life.
“Shane,” he said, brow raising. “Alright, tell me why you’re walking up to my gate with a fucking crowbar or we’re going to have problems.”
“One of your men owes us eight grand. Charlie talked to him. Ryan talked to him. Mark talked to him.”
Reign exhaled hard, nodding. “So now it’s time to stop talking,” he guessed.
“Afraid so.”
“Which one is it?”
“Mo.”
“Oh, fucking Mo. That piece of shit,” he said, raking a hand through his hair like the man had been nothing but a headache for a long time.
“Is he here?”
“Got in from the tracks twenty minutes ago.”
Blowing whatever cash he did have. Which I assumed meant my visit wasn’t going to do much good. But it still had to be done. “Are you going to send him out here?”
“No,” Reign said immediately, making me jerk back, surprised. “We ain’t having this shit getting around. We both have appearances to keep. I’m not having it getting around that my men don’t settle their debts. We have a shed out back,” he said, jerking his chin toward the back lawn. I knew all about the shed. That shed had been around for generations. I heard there was a fucking drain in the floor to get rid of the blood spilled there. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the front door. “Let’s go get Mo so you can get this over with.”
“Shane, you piece of shit,” I heard called as soon as I walked inside the clubhouse that was complete with a full bar, a giant TV, a pool table, and half a dozen bikers. “You stole that fucking redhead with the lush tits right out from under me last month.”
I turned with a smirk, knowing who I would find. Reign’s younger brother, Cash, was as different from Reign as possible both physically and personality-wise. Where Reign was dark, Cash was blond, half his head shaved up one side to peach fuzz, the other side left long. The bone structure was similar, but Cash’s eyes were dark green to Reign’s hazel. And where Reign was stern, severe, cold, and dangerous, Cash was more lighthearted, carefree, and laid-back. It went without mentioning that Cash was also one of the biggest ladies’ men around. We were constantly scooping up the others’ women at bars without even realizing it.
