Page 7 of Voss (Henchmen MC Next Generation)

Then, just as soon as it started, it was over, as someone came barreling into the room, shoving Doug back, and letting me drop down to the ground, sucking in greedy breaths.

“What the…” Russ’s voice said, making my head jerk up.

I guess I’d thought it was Russ who had come to my rescue. Seeing as he’d been the one I’d called.

But Russ had just rushed into the room, grabbing the arms of my true savior, and yanking him off of Doug.

Perish.

The felon across the hall.

Of course it had been him.

He was closest.

And not… unfamiliar with fights.

My gaze slid to Doug’s bloodied face.

He was still conscious, but barely.

I should have been able to muster some sympathy. He was drunk. He was upset about being out on the street. He had no idea what his near future held now that he was homeless.

I couldn’t muster a single fuck to give him, though, as my hand went to my throat, still able to feel his fingers pressing in there.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck,” Perish hissed.

Glancing up, I saw him running his hands over the top of his head, his knuckles red and angry, split on the top of one or two of them.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

“We’re not going to tell your P.O.,” Russ told him. “You were defending one of us,” he added.

Then with that, Russ’s gaze slid to me, and he was squatting down, reaching out with both hands, and helping me back onto my feet.

“Are you okay?” he asked, true concern marking his attractive, but tired, features.

“Y…yes,” I said, voice sounding almost as scratchy as my throat felt. “Thank you,” I said, looking to Perish.

“Done a lot of bad shit,” he said, shrugging. “Never put my hands on a girl.” His gaze cut to Doug with that, who was now on his side on the bed, holding his face.

“Go back to your room,” Russ demanded, giving Perish a nod. “Syl, go get some tea for your throat. I’ve got this,” he said, jaw getting tight.

You didn’t often see Russ angry.

He’d been around a long time. Seen and done so much in his day. He had a lot of empathy for those in the struggle, having struggled himself. He didn’t get pissed off when someone was found with needles or pills in their room. Or when residents got into squabbles.

But he was fucking raging right then.

Even as I made my way into the hall, I could see him towering over Doug, then reaching down to haul him up.

I made my way down the stairs, head ducked, ignoring the curious gazes of the men around me as I went. They would hear about it soon enough. I didn’t want to relive it.

I wanted my cup of tea.

And then I wanted to get home.

So that was what I did.

I waited until Doug was good and gone, then the conversation died down, everyone heading up to bed, then I snuck out the back door and down the road toward my car.

Which went ahead and refused to start on me.

Because of course.

That was the cherry on the pie of my craptastic day.

Sighing, I slammed my head back into the rest, weighing my options.

I could call a ride.

But that was going to take a chunk out of my very tight budget.

What can I say? No one who worked at a sober house was rolling in it. We didn’t do it for the money. We did it for the cause. But, well, money was survival in this world. And if I wanted my cell to stay on and to have some food in my cabinets and fridge, I needed to pinch the pennies until my next payday.

Decision made, I tucked an eye-gouger into one of my pockets, and the pepper spray into the other, then tucked my keys and small wallet into my pockets, tucked the rest of my purse into my trunk, and started hoofing it.

It wasn’t a big deal.

I’d walked home several times in the past. My car had never been the most reliable. And repairs were expensive.

Besides, I’d walked in much sketchier areas than this town before.

Still.

I felt myself tensing as I heard a bike rumbling up behind me when I was on the only desolate street on the entire walk home.

Then it pulled up in front of me and the engine cut.

I mean, I wasn’t super worried.

It wasn’t like someone could kidnap me when a fucking bike was their mode of transportation. But my nerves were fried from my little attack. I was tired. And I was more than a little moody.

I couldn’t see him.

The only light being the moon situated behind him, his tall figure almost entirely in shadow.

I could make out kind of a hint of a face, but I couldn’t really tell you much about it.

The voice, though, yeah, that was memorable.

It was a low, rough rumble. It almost sounded like he hadn’t spoken in ages and his voice was rusty from it.

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