Colson (The Henchmen MC #20) - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,38

that had me slowly, happily, drifting off to sleep.

Blissfully unaware of what was coming.

EIGHT

Reign

I don't think there was an inch of me that wasn't bruised.

I had to remember, for future reference, if I lived through this shit, not to poke at the egos of little men.

They did everything in their power to prove they were bigger and badder than you were.

I learned this on what had to have been the third or fourth day in that garage. After two more visits from the asshole with the bat.

Judging by the screaming to my kneecap and the left side of my ribs, some shit was broken.

The side of my face felt swollen.

I didn't know if it was my jaw or my tooth. Something was fucked up there too.

In between the visits from the idiot with the ego, I had once-daily visits from a small group of mismatched kids, all ranging from their late teens to their mid-twenties, all of them loud and on-edge as they carefully lowered me down just enough so that I could touch my feet down, leaving me there for a few moments while my muscles adjusted, allowed me to hold my weight, then loosening the chain once again so I could walk across the room to piss in a bucket there for me.

They always strung me back up too soon, leaving me swinging across the room, gritting my teeth to keep from yelling out as my shoulders screamed, as my ribs sent shooting pain through my system.

Once they had me up again, whichever was the braver of the group would make their way toward me with a plastic water bottle with a long straw, squirting water into my mouth for a moment before they all left me once again.

They didn't want to kill me.

That was the message I was getting.

Holding onto me was the plan.

Otherwise they wouldn't have given me water.

So the only question was, to what end?

Was I being held for ransom?

They would know my family and my club could afford it.

But why then was it taking so long to get the cash? Summer knew where a third of it was. Cash knew where another third was. And Wolf the final. There was more than enough to pay any ransom.

And even if it wasn't, I knew Lo would put the rest up.

And if that still wasn't enough, Chris would have her counterfeiter man Finch print up enough fake cash to make the difference.

So the fact that days had clearly past without that happening was what was troubling me.

What the fuck was the end goal?

And why weren't they fearing retribution for beating the shit out of me, if they planned to let me go one day?

No one had questioned me.

They didn't seem to want information of any sort.

None of this shit made any goddamn sense.

I kept hearing my men's bikes though.

Coming and going and coming and going.

Clearly, they were no closer to figuring this shit out than I was.

And if they weren't, that meant that each hour that passed without them finding me was making it less and less likely that they ever would. That anyone was coming to save me.

Shit.

Something had to give.

The man with the bat was eventually going to do some damage that wasn't just going to hurt now and cause an ache down the road whenever it rained or I turned the wrong way.

He was going to crack a rib and puncture a lung.

He was going to hit me into the face and drive my nose up into my skull.

There were countless ways he could accidentally kill me when he was in a rage.

If my men weren't coming, I had to find a way to get myself out.

The best bet would be when the kids were letting me down. But I didn't like my chances against three or four of them when I was as busted-up as I had been.

After hanging for so long, I wasn't sure my shoulders would even let me swing.

Maybe a direct engagement wasn't what was needed. I could practically hear Chris whispering in my ear, telling me that a bikers' instinct to bare-knuckle fight when a more strategic plan would produce better results was the reason MCs weren't taken as seriously as other organizations in the criminal world.

She was a trip, that kid. She was going to do a great job with Hailstorm when Lo stepped fully down.

And maybe she was right in this case.

Maybe the plan couldn't be to go toe-to-toe with a bunch of kids half my