Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(10)

Hound drew his brows together. “Brother, you call me when you got somewhere to go no one else can go. What the fuck?”

Tack shook his head but did it with his eyes locked to Hound’s.

“You know you don’t go there. She’s Black’s. Dead or alive, she’s Black’s. She can move on. I hope to fuck someday she does. But she can’t move on with Chaos.”

At that, Hound got pissed.

Really pissed.

Because he’d been living that hell for so long, it felt like he’d been born to it.

But his voice was quiet when he replied, “You think I don’t know that shit?”

“I know you know,” Tack returned. “Just remindin’ you.”

“Don’t need a reminder, brother,” Hound grated out, so done with it, now more than before after the words Keely lashed out with, he landed it on his brother. “Lived with that for years, bein’ in love with a woman I can’t have.”

Without hesitation, after delivering that, he threw open the door and prowled out. When he slammed it, the door shook.

He knew she had a reason to be mad. Things with the Club were again getting extreme.

So extreme, an enemy had actually kidnapped an old lady. His minions putting hands on her. Hitting her.

She was now safe, but that was not on.

Not fucking on.

Because they had no choice, even though she’d drifted further and further from the Club as the years passed, Keely was closest to High’s kids, so when High’s woman, Millie, was taken, Tack called Keely in to get to them and look after them while the boys rolled out.

And since she knew things were again extreme, Keely was pissed.

She had that right. She had reason. More reason than any of them and not just because she lost Black but because, back in the day, her and Millie had been super tight.

When this asshole takes you out, Hound, you’re not leavin’ anyone who loves you more than the breath they take behind.

He knew she was feeling deep feelings.

But that shit was not right.

It was not right.

It fucking hurt.

Over the years Hound did his best and didn’t think on it. He lived his life. He had his fun. He covered his Club. He took care of Keely. He looked after the boys.

But fuck him, he’d given himself to a woman who he not only could not have, but who would never have him.

What the fuck was he doing?

He was still tight with her boys. Of all the men, and all the men had kicked in, they were Hound’s.

And he’d keep it that way, especially since Dutch was ready to approach Chaos, become a recruit. He was twenty-one, closing in on twenty-two. He’d got his mechanic’s license, he’d bought his first bike and he got some experience under his belt. He’d also gotten his other lessons from Hound, as well as all the men.

It was his time.

Jag, at nineteen, was going to follow his father, his brother.

Hound knew Keely wouldn’t like it.

But this was not his problem.

If she wouldn’t mourn him should he go in the battle that never fucking died to keep the Club clean, so be it.

If she didn’t know her boys would be lost again if Hound was not around, fuck her.

They might not love him more than breath.

But he’d stepped up for them, and for her, and he didn’t ask for any thanks, didn’t want any, it wasn’t duty, it was his privilege.

But she was right.

He had people who loved him.

Just not her.

She made that clear.

So it was time to move the fuck on.





Cowboy

Hound sat on his couch in his wife beater with his hand down the front of his jeans staring at the TV, when the knock came at the door.

He moved his gaze to it, his eyes narrowing.

When another knock came, he reached to the gun sitting on the seat beside him.

He pushed himself out of the couch and walked cautiously to the door but not in a direct path.

To the side.

Anyone out there felt like taking a shot through the door, Hound would not take those hits.

His couch would.

And he didn’t mind that. His couch was a piece of shit.

He was to the side of the door when he yelled, “What?”

“Hound? It’s Keely!”

He stared at the doorknob.

First, how did she know where he lived?

And second, what the fuck was she doing there?

“Hound?” she called.

“The boys okay?” he asked, but he knew at least Jag was. The kid had left just a half an hour ago after bumming fifty bucks from Hound to take his girl out to dinner.

Jagger Black went through money like water. Hound had had so many words about that with him, he should tape that crap and just replay it when he had to do it again.

And he knew he’d have to do it again.

He still gave him the fifty bucks.

But he also gave him shit about it.

“Yes!” she shouted back. “Open up!”

He drew in breath through his nose and moved to tuck his gun under the cushion of his beat-up armchair.

He hadn’t seen her in two months. Not since the day Millie had been kidnapped.

He moved to the peephole, looked out and saw her there, staring at the door. Her hair parted down the middle and falling in sheets to either side of her face. Years and grief not having affected the skin on that face even a little. It was smooth from forehead to cheekbones to chin.