Wild Like the Wind (Page 32)

“You need to go up and take care of Jean, Hound.”

“Look at me, Keely.”

Her eyes came right to his. “I get it.”

“Not sure you do.”

“I get it. I’ve got what you’ll let me have.”

She had what he would let her have?

“Like I said,” he growled, “not sure you get it.”

“I think maybe we should have a break for tonight. It’s been intense.”

Oh no she did not.

He leaned into the car and got in her face. “Oh no. Fuck no, Keely. You don’t get to do that shit. Your ass is here tonight at eight o’clock and if it isn’t, I’ll find it and drag it here.”

“Hound—”

“Eight,” he ground out, pulled back and slammed her door.

He walked around her hood, jogged up the walk, in the door and up the steps.

He walked right into Jean’s apartment and found her in her armchair.

She looked surprised.

And worried.

“You’re back a lot sooner than I thought you’d be,” she remarked cautiously.

“She needs time to get her head straight,” he stated, walking to the kitchen to start breakfast.

“Can I ask why you haven’t told her about me?”

“Because you’re none of her business.”

“Now can I ask why that is?”

He walked back to the side of her chair and looked down at her.

When he’d locked eyes with her, he gave it to her.

“Because you’re mine. And you’re important. Outside my brothers, and her, you’re the best thing I got. She’s keepin’ something important from me. I don’t give a fuck if it’s immature and mean, I’m keepin’ something important from her. You.”

“I’ll let that F-word slide seeing as you’re this upset,” she murmured. “And, of course, that was sweet, even if I’m thinking you understand right about now it was quite foolhardy.”

“She doesn’t get you,” Hound bit out.

“And I love you, my handsome boy,” she whispered. “But has it occurred to you that keeping her from me is keeping me from her?”

“Say what?”

“Although it says little about her upbringing that she’d pound on the door and force her way in like that, considering she thought you were seeing another woman, I must admit that it’s understandable. After she realized that she was in error, she was very considerate.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t get into a blow by blow,” he suggested.

“And maybe, sweetheart, you need to start paying closer attention, because after she was considerate it became clear she was very hurt.”

“She forces herself into a part of my life that’s my decision whether or not it’s hers to have, she doesn’t get to feel hurt.”

“You can’t tell anyone, especially a woman, how they can feel.”

“Tonight when she comes over, since the lid is off about you, Jean, you can come over and watch me.”

“I fear this would be a mistake, Shepherd.”

“This is another part of the world I live in and she lives in that you don’t that you don’t get,” he shared. “But she does.”

Her eyes got intent. “I hope that you never, ever don’t put in the effort to find it in your heart somewhere, even if it’s the tiniest place, to try to understand what those you love are feeling. I hope that deeply, Shepherd. Very, very deeply.”

He was done.

“You want breakfast?” he asked.

She studied him a beat before she nodded.

Hound prowled to her kitchen.

Jean didn’t let up on him.

“She’s very beautiful.”

“Yeah, she is,” he told the inside of her refrigerator.

“You were right those weeks ago, she knows you’re hers.”

“Yeah, she does,” Hound agreed, putting the carton of eggs on the counter.

“What I fear you’re not understanding, motek, is she’s yours too.”

She wasn’t.

She would never be.

He had her cunt and her cooking and her smiles and her time.

But if he had her, she’d be on the back of his bike faster than he could say her name.

She was not his.

She was Black’s.

And she always would be.

Around lunchtime, Hound went early back to Jean’s because that morning he’d fed her and cleaned up after but he was in a mood he didn’t want to hang around.

So he didn’t.

But now he was calmer.

Not about what Keely pulled.

About understanding where Jean was because she knew one biker her whole life, him. And right now her whole life was mostly her apartment, so she’d never get it. But she loved him, and he had to have more patience with her and not take the shit going down with Keely out on her.

He knocked on her door like he usually did to give her the heads up he was outside, then he let himself in.

She was in her chair, her chin to her neck, motionless.

The air rushed out of his lungs and it felt like someone sucker punched him in his gut, so he had to press out his, “Jean?”

She didn’t move.

She might nap and he might wake her when he opened the door.

But he woke her when he opened the door.

Cautiously, he moved toward her feeling his skin start itching all over.

“Jean!” he called sharply.

She gave a jerk and her head came up.

Hound was so relieved he fell back on a foot as he swallowed the feeling that shot up his throat.

She blinked at the TV before she turned to look at him. “Shepherd, sweetie. You’re early.”

He walked to her, bent in and kissed her forehead.

He lifted away and said, “Was ticked earlier. Took off. Didn’t get my time with Jean bug.”

“Making up for it,” she said on a smile.

“Don’t get my daily dose of Law and Order, might quit breathing.”

Her smile got bigger.

He surveyed her area and asked, “Need anything?”

“Since you’re here, can we go to the bathroom?”

“You got it,” he muttered.

They did that.

They watched Law and Order with some Judge Judy mixed in just for shits and giggles, and he made her lunch.

Hound stayed longer than he normally did.

He needed to be out on the streets.

He needed to be doing the job he did for his Club so they could breathe easy.

But he stayed with Jean.

Benito Valenzuela and Camilla Turnbull unfortunately weren’t going anywhere.

That scare earlier with her asleep in her chair . . .

He needed to take his time with Jean.

That night, it didn’t start good.

This was because at eight oh three, there was a knock on the door, not a text on his phone telling Hound that she was there and he needed to come down and get her.

He went to it and saw Keely outside through the peephole.

So he opened the door fast and with such force, it was a wonder it didn’t come off the hinges.

“What’d I say about—?” he started to bite out.

But she scuttled in and said, “Please, let me start.”

He was about to slam the door.

But since he left Jean snoozing, she’d hear it and it would wake her up, he closed it quiet, flipped the locks, turned to Keely, crossed his arms on his chest and then didn’t move.

“It was wrong. It was . . . was wrong,” she began.