Adler Read online

  Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  DON'T FORGET

  ALSO BY JESSICA GADZIALA

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  STALK HER!

  ADLER

  A Henchmen MC Novel

  -

  Jessica Gadziala

  Copyright © 2018 Jessica Gadziala

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.

  "This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental."

  Cover image credit: Shutterstock .com/ Anna Gorodnitskaya

  DEDICATION

  To Chelsea Bowden.

  Who makes the best care packages known

  to man, and has the biggest heart around.

  XO

  ONE

  Adler

  There was a new girl across the hall from my apartment.

  Well, technically, Adalind's apartment.

  But she was shacking up at Ward's place.

  So this place was technically vacant.

  I mean, full of her shite still, but I could deal with the frilly crap.

  And luckily, the landlord didn't care who stayed there so long as the bills were paid.

  So it was my place for all intents and purposes.

  The compound was great. I crashed there when I was too ass-faced to drive anywhere, but as a whole, I had gotten enough of being trapped in small spaces with a bunch of men in my life.

  So I needed a place to escape to.

  The Ritz it wasn't, but I was one of those weird fucks who found the sound of street fights and whacked-out stoners on the street below almost soothing. The fuck-ups, those were my people. You knew right where you stood with them. No bullshite.

  "The fuck is this?" I asked the empty walls, picking up some green roller thing from the drawer in the bathroom, snapping a picture, sending it to Addy.

  - The fuck is this shite? For your lady business?

  Addy - Omg how could that ever be for my 'lady business?' It's a jade roller for wrinkle prevention. Why are you always breaking into my apartment?

  - It's not breaking in when I have a key.

  Addy - It is when you took a mold of my key when I wasn't looking, and reproduced it.

  She had me there.

  Totally stole it out of her purse when she and Ward were getting it on in his office.

  Sure, it was alright for him to do that.

  But could the rest of us?

  Nope.

  Not unless we wanted a lecture from Daddy Ward about it.

  My oldest friend in the world - and until recently, my only - but the fuck never did have any sense of humor.

  Just Lysol your desk and move on, y'know?

  I lifted the roller, rubbing the cold stone under my eyes and across my forehead, not entirely convinced the fucking thing did anything, but it felt good regardless.

  And that was when I heard it.

  Right on time.

  Seven a.m.

  It made me a bit of a stalker to even notice that there was any kind of rhyme or reason to her morning schedule, but what can I say? There wasn't enough excitement in my life since I settled down. Became an arms dealer. I had to get my jollies where I could.

  And this chick across the hall was up at seven a.m. as she had been every morning since she moved in.

  And despite it being the witch's tit of winter, she was planning on going for a run.

  With not a damn thing better to do, apparently, so was I.

  I had barely gotten the opportunity to notice that she had a great ass before she disappeared down the side of a building.

  It wasn't until it was too late that I realized she'd done it on purpose.

  To catch me off-guard.

  A forearm cracked across my throat out of nowhere, cutting off my grunt and all of my air as I was slammed back against the unyielding brick of the building, head hitting with a jolt of pain as I finally got to see her.

  I'd seen her, of course, coming and going.

  But never up close.

  Never more than a back view or a hint of profile.

  Never like this, in all her glory.

  She was beautiful but in a brutal, determined way. Like tree roots breaking through concrete.

  She wasn't much of a thing, five-six and compact, though not exactly slight or curvy, more athletic with a jut of hip, a nice rack heaving under her long-sleeved black shirt, and curvy legs clad in... jeans?

  "Why the fuck are you following me?" she snapped, easing up just enough so that I could respond.

  "Why the fuck are ya running in jeans?"

  "I think my You're a creepy ass stalker question trumps your fashion one. Answer me, or a little breathing trouble will be the least of your problems."

  They shouldn't have, but for some reason, those words sent a jolt of desire to my cock.

  Maybe because of who made the threat.

  This fierce ass Latina chick with her wavy black hair, almond-shaped, dark eyes, and killer self-defense moves.

  Maybe she trained at Jstorm, Cash, and Lo's gym.

  I'd ask, but Lo would get that look in her eye. And from what I heard around the club, when she did, fuckers started dropping. Not dead. No. But just as bad. Into committed relationships.

  Couldn't have that woman weaving her love magic shite on me.

  No thanks.

  "Figured it was beautiful weather for a run."

  "It's eighteen degrees and drizzling ice water."

  "And?

  "You're in a t-shirt."

  "And?"

  "Your hair is wet. You aren't out for a run, you're following me. Why?"

  "Can't a man risk frostbite while looking for some exercise without being attacked by some hot chick with an inflated ego?"

  Her eyes narrowed at that. "Inflated ego. Bullshite. I could feel your eyes on my ass since you fell into step behind me."

  "Well, can't deny that, can I? I'm Adler. Yer new neighbor."

  "And you thought chasing me down on the street was the best way to introduce yourself."

  "Maybe I have a pie in the oven for ya."

  "Do you?"

  "No," I admitted, lips quirking up as her brows knitted.

  "Great. My new neighbor is a fucking weirdo."

  "Welcome to Navesink Bank," I told her, leaning back onto the wall when she released me, taking a careful step back, out of my reach. "Ya kinda can't swing a stick without hitting at least one criminal, one weirdo, or one guy who wants to fuck you until you lose yer voice."

  "And which of those would you be?"

  "Can't be all three?"

  She snorted at that, shaking her head.

  "Well, Adler, I'd say nice to meet you, but..." she waved out a hand, turning to walk away.

  "I didn't get your name," I called after her.

  "No, you didn't," she agreed, shooting me a look over her shoulder that could only be called saucy.

  So, that was how I met my new neighbor.

/>   "I like her," Lenny declared, perched on top of the glass case where the cigars were located, twisting a dart around between her fingers.

  "Right?" I agreed, taking another shot of whiskey to try to warm up my insides that had felt chilled ever since I had gotten back to my apartment that morning.

  "You don't think she's from around here?"

  "Had a bit of an accent," I told her, shrugging before taking aim at the board, determined to wipe the floor with her smug ass one of these days. Never met someone with such good aim before.

  "What kind of accent? English? Spanish..."

  "Nah something New York. One of the boroughs. Bronx, maybe. But just barely there."

  "Bronx would make sense with her badassness. It's a bit of a rough area."

  "A bit?" I asked, lips curving up.

  "Well, we do live in Navesink Bank," she said, hopping off the display case so she could ring up some fuck's vodka that he wasn't supposed to be buying at this hour of night, but Meryl was a bit lenient about state liquor laws. And Lenny wasn't paid enough to care either.

  "True," I agreed, hissing when my dart landed nowhere near the bullseye. "This coming from a chick who lives on Third Street turf."

  She shrugged that off. "So, you haven't been able to figure out anything else about her except she runs in jeans, has some moves, and is immune to your charms."

  "Take that back," I demanded, pouring another glass from the bottle we had taken from behind the bar. "No one is immune to my charms."

  "Except me."

  "Ya don't count," I said, shrugging. "Yer ass belongs to that growling bastard."

  "Whose name is Edison."

  "Yeah, yeah, that fuck. Like I stood a chance against his Romanian arse."

  "Arse," she chuckled, as she often did with some of my words. Been in and out of the states a good chunk of my life, but some words just never stuck the way they had from other countries. "He does have a great Romanian arse," she agreed. "But we're talking about this badass Latina's ass."

  "Moved all her shite in within half an hour. That's about all I got."

  "And she's been there how long?"

  "Couple weeks."

  "Doesn't leave for work? Go out with friends? Sounds like she's on the run. Leave it to a fucking Henchmen to find a woman with a problem."

  "Think this woman is a problem," I mused, shrugging. "Doesn't strike me as a damsel in distress."

  "Do I?" she asked, brow raising, daring me to say yes so she could try out her Systema Vulcan nerve pinch shite on me. I'd been on the receiving end of that twice. Wasn't lining up for a third.

  "Nah."

  "Exactly. But I still had a problem," she reminded me, a guard slipping down over her eyes for a long second, put there to keep anyone from seeing the pain buried beneath, no doubt. Lenny was a lot of things, emotionally secure was not one of them. But which of us was? Life fucked with some more than others. Some of us didn't come out what others would call 'well-adjusted.'

  "It's not that I don't think it is possible she gets herself into situations. I just get a trouble vibe from her. Like she brings it."

  Lenny's lips quirked up at the edge, her dark eyes dancing a bit. "And we both know how much you love trouble."

  "Me? I'm retired."

  "You're an arms-dealing biker," she reminded me, a hint of humor in her words.

  "Yeah, exactly," I agreed, smirking as I sent a dart flying, finally getting a bullseye. It was too late; she was going to beat me, but it felt good not to go down in flames. "Retired."

  "What a life you must have led before if all that club crap that is always going on is like retirement to you."

  "Aye, what a life," I agreed.

  "Come on. One hint!" she demanded, snatching the bottle away from me before I could pour another round. "Give me one hint, or I am chugging this myself."

  "Ya'd just be asking me to put No Diggity on if ya do that. And then ya'd be up on the bar dancing. Which would be a treat for me."

  "I don't say this often, but please," she said, brow raising.

  Lenny was obsessed with my past, with knowing the secrets, with getting a hint of the man I was before. And for a woman who wasn't one for prying - since she was a private person herself - it was interesting how much this was irking her.

  "I spent two years in Scotland," I told her, leaving out the details. Maybe someday I would tell her, but this was not that day. I hadn't even told Ross all the details. Some shite just didn't need to be drudged up.

  "Makes sense why more of your words don't have that sexy Scottish hint to them. Just two years."

  "Got plenty sexy from plenty places, ya bonnie lass," I told her, letting the accent drip heavy into my words, holding back a smile when her eyes started dancing. "Now I cannae get oot my face alone. Ya fancy a munch box and some telly round at mine?"

  "Okay," she said, openly smiling, clearly enjoying this. "That first part has to mean... you can't get shitefaced alone," she guessed accurately, pouring us both another round. "What the hell can munch box and some telly round at mine mean?"

  "He's asking you to Netflix and chill," Edison's voice declared, words deep and rolling together as they often did, the sound making Lenny's eyes fill with liquid desire even before she turned to see him standing there. "And he better the fuck be fucking with you," he added, giving me a pointed look.

  "Ya ruined all the fun, ya killjoy," I told him, shaking my head. "She'd have been at that one all night."

  "Your friend here refuses to divulge his secrets. Like he's some spy or something."

  "Only one spy in the compound," Edison told her, pushing her back against the glass cabinet, body pressed to hers, making her breath hitch. "And Adler isn't him."

  "Well if ya are gonna take my girl, ain't no reason in hanging 'round here," I declared, grabbing the bottle.

  "Pretty sure she's my girl," Edison growled, shooting me a look, the fuck not trusting me much. Couldn't even blame him. I hadn't made the best of friends among my brothers yet. It was hard to get close with people when you didn't give them a lot of details about your life. That was why Reeve was more of an outcast than his brother, why Roan spent most of his time up in the glass room while Sugar and Virgin and Roderick were all a boys club.

  "Yeah, go get your girl, Adler," Lenny added, leaning her head on Edison's arm as she looked at me. "We could use some more badass chicks around the compound.

  I said nothing as I walked out, the neck of the bottle cool in my hand as I made my way down the street, huddling deeper into the warmth of my leather jacket that had replaced the cut I was originally given, but I was starting to think that maybe I would go see her. The mysterious girl across the hall. Not because she was mine. Not because I had any plans to make her mine. Just to satisfy the curiosity that had been eating at me all day.

  And, hey, if we fell into the bed after, that would work just fine for me too.

  But when I got back to the building, her spot was empty, her place was dark.

  She was gone.

  As fate would have it, she wouldn't be back for weeks.

  TWO

  Lou

  It was the kind of month that made you decide you needed a healthy dose of Fuckitall, prescription strength. Chased with about a fifth of Wild Turkey.

  And then hit the bed for a solid ten hours after a solid session with that new bullet I bought online but hadn't had the chance to test drive yet.

  But before I even finished hauling my duffle bag out of the trunk, my phone was vibrating in my back pocket. And since there was only one person in the world - save for the company who provided my phone service was quick to start blowing me up if I was so much as fifteen seconds late for a payment - was Geoff, I knew exactly what that meant.

  I looked into the black lining of my trunk, littered with shoes of all sorts, notebooks, files, sighing out a breath as I considered just shoving my charcoal gray bag with duct tape spots back in, hitting the laundry mat on the way, but figured losing an hour to switc
h out my clothes and take a shower in my own bathroom where I didn't have to wear flip-flops was more important than whatever Geoff had lined up.

  I hauled the bag out, throwing it half over my shoulder, reaching for my key in a side pocket.

  That was when I saw him.

  The neighbor guy.

  The one who ran-stalked me.

  The one with the sexy face and even sexier accent.

  Adler.

  A Henchmen.

  I'd clocked him before he had ever laid an eye on me, pulling into a spot beside the building on that bike of his, his leather jacket bearing the unmistakable Henchmen logo on the back.

  I'd noticed him too.

  Not as a person curious about their neighbors, but as a woman who hadn't been laid in, ugh, seven months.

  He was hot, there was no mistaking that.

  In that 'what the fuck are you' kind of way. With those indistinguishable characteristics. Eastern European? South American? Both? Neither? It was impossible to tell. All I did know was he was tall, and a lean type of strong, wide of shoulder, thick of thigh and arm, suggesting that his back and stomach would be equally as graced with the etches of muscles. I'd bet a grand that he had those damn Adonis lines too, that delicious deep V that was like a lighthouse on the coast, guiding you home.

  Christ.

  I was starting to think of some random dude's cock as home.

  I needed to get laid.

  After I changed out my clothes, checked on my apartment, took a quick shower, and got back on the road again.

  To God-knew-where.

  That was the good and bad thing about Geoff. He was just popular enough to get the good files and just shady enough to employ me under the table.

  Can't have a loose cannon like you on the books. I'd lose my license.

  And that was fair enough.

  I didn't exactly play by the rules or laws.

  But it also meant he gave me the good ones. The runners who were dangerous, or who had contacts all over the country.