Wild Like the Wind (Page 87)

I watched High’s jaw flex through his thick salt and pepper stubble then I turned to my man.

I lifted a hand and curled it around the side of his neck, getting his attention as he dropped his gaze to look at me.

There was determination there still, I could see.

That was mingled with the love he had for me that was always right there, at the surface, all for me.

“You do what you need to do, baby,” I told him. “If we’re having dinner, I’ll get on that. If we’re not and it comes time you need me, I’ll be there. Or when you come home, I’ll be waiting.”

He nodded.

I gave him a squeeze, got up on my toes, touched my lips to his then rocked back and let him go.

I turned, snatched up my wineglass and walked to Millie.

She took her hand from High’s chest and turned to me.

“Wish we had more time to catch up, but we will, babe,” I said. “Just know I’m glad to have you back.”

I bent in, touched my lips to her cheek, pulled away, slid my glance through High and then walked out of my kitchen, to the stairs and up to my room.

Sitting in my sheepskin chair, I waited and I hoped. The hope part was hoping that Hound would come up, tell me we were having dinner with my sons, meaning both he and I would have time to prepare for what was to come.

I heard nothing except doors closing.

I waited some more.

When Hound didn’t come up, I went down.

My heart clenched then warmed when I saw that all the groceries had been put away.

My man, my biker, my Hound . . . always so good to me.

My heart just clenched when I saw the note on the kitchen table.

I went to it and picked it up.

In Hound’s messy scrawl it read,

Hitting the Compound, Keekee. Be home soon’s I can.

I closed my eyes, pressed the note to my chest and took in a huge breath.

Then I opened my eyes, dropped the note to the table and went to my phone.

First, I called Dutch.

After that, I called Jag.

And after that, I called Bev.

Gold-Plated Love

Hound

“This is bullshit and I’ll have no fuckin’ part of it,” Rush Allen spat at his father.

All the brothers were in the meeting room of the Compound, most of them sitting around the table with the Plexiglas in the middle, under which the first Chaos flag ever stitched lay.

Hound was not at the table.

Hound was where Hound usually was during meetings.

Standing at the back against the wall, one boot up against it, his arms crossed on his chest.

Standing down from him was Boz, and down from Boz was Brick.

The rest of the men sat at the table.

“Rush, you weren’t—” Tack, at the head of the table, started to say to his son.

“If you say I wasn’t a brother when Black got whacked, you know that don’t mean dick. He wasn’t like my favorite uncle. He was like my second father, and you fuckin’ know that shit so you know I sit here havin’ earned my patch and I sit here as a man who lost Black same’s the rest of you,” Rush fired back.

“Then maybe we’ll listen to you when you got a woman you give a shit about,” Arlo put in heatedly.

Rush’s attention turned to Arlo. “Is that what it takes, Arlo? ’Cause if you know how that goes, you show me the woman you gave a shit about for more than it took to find some new pussy to sink into.”

Arlo’s mouth got tight because Arlo had an old lady and had had her for a while. He’d also had his share of other pussy, before her, and since.

Rush looked back to his father. “Coulda gone a lotta ways, you walked through that gunfire to get to Tyra. Blood leakin’ out of her, ten more minutes, she’d have been gone. Would you keep your dick to yourself for the rest of your life if you lost the love of your life?”

“That’s not what we’re talkin’ about here,” Tack growled.

“So that happened, time passed and Lanie rubbed up against you, you wouldn’t think about it?” Rush pushed.

“This isn’t about Lanie,” Hopper bit, not happy his old lady was dragged into this discussion.

“I’m makin’ a point,” Rush bit back at Hop.

“We’re gettin’ your point and it’s not the same damned thing,” Hop returned.

“It fuckin’ is and you know it,” Rush shot back. “With those two women, sisters of their own kind of patch, you know it. And you also know, time went by, she wasn’t feelin’ you but she was feelin’ Dad, Dad felt like goin’ that way, he wouldn’t blink before he took what he wanted.”

Hop’s jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth, because Hop knew Tack found what he wanted in Lanie (even though he wouldn’t, she was slim, and Tack was a tits and ass man), and it meant something even with what she meant to Tyra, he wouldn’t blink.

Rush turned again to his old man. “And say a bullet tagged you and we lost you. Tyra didn’t even have your ring then and Chaos would still have moved in. We’d have taken her on. We’d have protected her forever like she was one of our own.”

“Yeah, you would and she’d have earned that by then, because ring or not, she was mine,” Tack ground out. “And bein’ mine, a brother moved in on that, I would not be down, Rush. Not ever. Not even close.”

Rush’s voice dipped when he said, “By then, Dad, you’re right, she was yours. She was also ours. Now tell me, who could look after her like we could?”

“No one,” Tack gritted.

“Yeah, and she made that play, that was what she wanted, Chaos was who she was and the only thing she could ever again be. If that was what she needed to make her happy, who could come after you but a brother?” Rush asked then kept at his old man. “Who would you want to come after you to give her what she needed to make her happy but a brother?”

Tack shut his mouth so fast Hound could swear he heard his teeth clack together.

And Hound stood against the wall, shaken, because he’d never thought of it that way.

But Rush was right.

Keely was Chaos.

If he’d thought about it, there could be no one else for her but a man whose blood ran wind, fire, ride and free.

“This is fuckin’ insane. I can’t even fuckin’ believe I’m hearin’ this shit,” Dog growled.

Rush stood, his focus on Dog. “There’s love and there’s love. My father taught me the right kind of love. It’s unrelenting and selfless. There’s nothing you won’t give up to show it. There’s nothing you won’t do to protect it.” Keeping his eyes on Dog, Rush speared a finger at his father. “Dad taught me that.” He speared a finger at Dog. “Black taught you that.” Without looking Hound’s way, Rush speared a finger at Hound. “And Hound’s spent two decades showin’ us all he’s got that.”

He moved free of his chair and trained his eyes on Shy sitting to Tack’s left.

“You got my proxy. The vote comes up to make Hound stand the gauntlet, my vote is no. But I’m not gonna sit here and be a party to this shit.” He finally turned to Hound. “They make you stand, brother, and you fall, I’ll be there not to pick you up but to stand in your place.” He swept his gaze along the table. “You take your fists to him and bring him low, next up you’re taking your fists to me. Now you get done with this bullshit, I’ll be at the bar. I need some fuckin’ tequila.”