Chaos series by Kristen Ashley

It went without saying that since life wasn’t good at his bitchy aunt’s house, Christmases weren’t much better. So I got to give something for Christmas, not only to Shy but also to Lan, that they hadn’t had in a long time.

Real, honest-to-goodness family.

These were my happy thoughts as I settled in my car, and I was about to start her up when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse and took the call.

“Hey, darlin’,” I greeted Shy.

“Where are you?”

My stomach dropped.

He sounded pissed.

No, strike that, he sounded furious.

“In my car, ready to drive home,” I told him cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Drive to the Compound, babe,” he ordered, paused a scary pause then finished, “Now,” and hung up.

I looked at my phone wondering what on earth was happening. He didn’t sound furious as in, furious in general or furious at someone else.

He sounded furious at me.

I didn’t get this. Things were good. I hadn’t done anything that I could think of that would make him angry or not that angry. Since the big to-do with Shy and the boys over beating up Dr. Dickhead, all was cool.

I mean, we did have that conversation about how I really wished he’d put the seat down (and the lid) on the toilet but he’d grinned through that, and since then, only once (yeah, I counted) he left the seat up.

He listened. He got me. He made an effort. So it couldn’t be that. And anyway, if Shy was that pissed about the toilet seat, then I’d put the danged thing down myself.

As I started my baby up with shaking hands, my mind moving feverishly, I couldn’t think of anything it could be.

I drove carefully to the Compound, considering I was freaking and although I wasn’t all fired up to find out how I’d ticked Shy off so royally, I wanted to figure it out and move on.

I turned into Ride, drove through the forecourt and parked outside the Compound seeing there were a goodly number of bikes there, which was surprising. The boys tended to be busy, out and about, not all of them at the Compound at once unless they had to be. It was like they were having a meeting and instinctively I did not see this as a good sign.

I also saw a big, black, shiny Ford Explorer.

Tyra’s car, however, was not to be seen.

I didn’t take this as a good sign either. Tyra should be at work, unless she was told, for some reason, to clear out.

I got out of my car and moved toward the Compound, hoping, if Shy had words for me, he’d take me to his room rather than lighting into me in front of the guys. That would only serve to piss me off, and I had a feeling one of us needed to be calm.

I walked in and saw I was right. The boys were all there.

All of them.

I stopped dead when I realized, possibly, though it had to be said I didn’t get it, why Shy was ticked.

Lee Nightingale was standing in the middle of the room.

Although I’d had my conversation with Natalie about hiring Lee Nightingale and his team of badasses to find Shy’s parents’ killer and was rethinking things, I still took the meeting mostly because it took so long to get it in the first place, and if I changed my mind back, I didn’t want to wait another six weeks.

The meeting with Nightingale verified all my worries. Lee Nightingale and his team cost a lot, and not just hourly. They also charged expenses.

That said, I was there so I sallied forth, gave him my story and his face got kinda scary. He then told me he knew my dad, knew Shy, and he’d “look into shit” (his words). I told him I wasn’t comfortable with him “looking into shit” unless I paid him. So we made a deal. I gave him a retainer which was the totality of my savings, and that wasn’t dinky. I’d been putting money in and not taking it out since Dad took me to the bank to set up my savings account when I was eleven. I’d meant to use it to help set up the house I would share with Jason, which didn’t come about. I then lamented losing it because it would have helped with the down payment on the house I bought with Shy and I would have felt better, doing my part. Alas, by then, it was gone.

So we made our deal, Lee told me they’d look into shit, keep track of time and expenses, and call me when the money ran out.

Not surprisingly, since the case was very cold, ages ago he’d called me and told me the money had run out.

Therefore, I thought it was over. It was disappointing and perhaps a stupid waste of money, but I held onto the fact that I tried to do something important for Shy, something huge, even though it didn’t work out and he’d never know I did it.

Now, taking in the room, the vibe, all of the angry eyes on me, including Shy’s, I had a feeling he knew.

I just didn’t understand why Shy, and everyone, was so freaking angry.

“You forget to tell me somethin’, babe?” Shy asked when I came to an uncertain halt.

“Uh…” My eyes slid to Lee Nightingale, who looked scary but he kinda was that way normally. He was just one of those men who gave off the vibe you didn’t mess with him. This didn’t take away from the fact that he was tall, dark, built, and seriously hot. He was still scary. My eyes went back to Shy. “Not really.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “Not really?”

That was the wrong answer, I could tell.

“Well, um… no. I mean, obviously you know I hired Lee to, uh… look into things, which, by the way”—I chanced a disapproving look at Nightingale hoping he wouldn’t take offense“—I thought was confidential.”

“Shit went down, wasn’t on your dime. If you’re not paying, it’s not your case, you’re not my client, so it’s no longer confidential,” Lee explained to me, and that made sense. It sucked with Shy’s present mood but it made sense.

“You hired him to find that motherfucker,” Shy pushed into our conversation and I looked back at him.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “But—”

“Wound like that never closes, you tear it wider? What the f**k, Tabby?” Shy bit out.

His words slashed through me.

That wasn’t what I was trying to do. He had to know that.

“I thought I was—” I started but didn’t finish.

“You thought you were what?” Shy clipped, his words harsh, coming from someplace ugly.

A place he’d clearly been keeping locked down and I’d inadvertently opened.

God, why hadn’t I listened to Natalie when she told me not to hire Lee Nightingale?