Colson (The Henchmen MC #20) - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,19

temples. They'd strung me up high. Not even the tips of my toes grazed the ground. And judging by the shoulder pain, I'd been here for a while.

Christ.

I was getting too fucking old for this shit, I decided as I tried to rearrange my hands to grab the chain, pulling with as much force as the position would allow.

It gave me a moment of relief for my shoulders, but I couldn't hold it for long.

On a sigh, I pulled up my legs at the waist and thrust them forward, then back, pumping them like a kid on a swing, trying to get my body swinging, get enough strain on the chain that it might break through whatever was holding it in place in the ceiling.

"Fuck," I growled what felt like a lifetime later, sweat slicking my body, running into my eyes.

I didn't know where I was, but the ceiling was solidly built. Or they had been smart enough to brace the chain down a wall as well. I'd swung out my legs as much as possible to see if anything was around that I could kick forward, could use to stand on. If I could get a little slack, I might be able to rest my shoulders for long enough that I could attempt to climb up the chain like a rope at the gym.

I wasn't exactly twenty years old anymore, but the survival instinct could give you fucking superpowers in a pinch.

But there was nothing.

Judging by the way my grunts and curses echoed off the walls, there was next to nothing in the space save for me.

At least I had managed to put the red flag up, I decided as I hung there. I'd gotten the chance to tell my men that something was wrong, that there was something going on, that someone was moving in.

When they figured out I was gone, they would already know it was linked, somehow, to the dwindling supply chain. From there, they would start knocking heads together.

My men had known calm for a long time. And maybe those from the outside would think we'd gotten soft. But I knew better. I knew what these men were capable of, what they had come from, what they would be willing to do to protect what was theirs.

It could get ugly, depending on who this new enemy was.

My men would paint the streets in blood to find me.

And if I didn't make it out of this, they would do everything in their power to take care of Summer, to help provide for the kids that weren't kids at all anymore. Everyone would be okay. With or without me. And someone would pay. Either fucking way.

It was at least another couple of hours before I heard a car coming close, idling, then the engine cutting off. Doors opened and closed.

And then I knew where I was.

Because a garage door grumbled open behind me before slamming closed again.

A light flicked on.

And footsteps came around from behind me.

Then there they were.

My kidnappers.

My possible competition.

And I didn't fucking know them.

Well, no, that wasn't exactly right.

There was a sense of familiarity, like a face you'd seen in passing more than a few times, often enough that they were familiar in a distant way.

I'd seen their faces, but I couldn't place where.

Had they been watching us for a long time? Is that why I recognized them?

"Doesn't look so big and powerful now, does he?" one of the men asked one of the men at his sides.

Nothing about them at first blush told me what organization they belonged to. The older guy seemed Latino, one of the younger guys, Black, the other white. So they weren't one of the many white supremacist assholes who wanted a piece of what we had. They didn't wear cuts, so they weren't bikers.

I had nothing to go on.

"What's the matter? Got nothing to say?" the older guy asked, taunting, showing off for the guys who clearly saw him as a role model of sorts.

"To you? Not a fucking thing."

It was never a great idea to provoke your kidnappers.

It was even more stupid to do so when the main guy was clearly trying to puff his chest in front of the two younger guys.

So I was expecting it when he cocked back and swung, landing a somewhat weak punch to my solar plexus.

One downfall to stringing a tall man up was that if you weren't a giant, you couldn't do a fuck of a lot of blunt-force damage